Bathing in Blood
by understar
Summary: The Chuunin Exams are here at last. Maybe now they'll recognize her for who she is, and not who she was told to be. (Sakura fic- very OOC, PG-13 for language & violence) ::Sequel-COMPLETE::
1. What is Not

**Sequel to _Puppet in Pink_**

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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* * *

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**_Bathing in Blood_**

1. _What is Not_

_The heat of the sun comes from me,_

_And I send and withhold the rain._

_I am life immortal and death;_

_I am what is and I am what is not._

_-The Bhagavad Gita_

"Good news, my lord." The voice was nondescript, anonymous, the tone of the blatantly inferior, echoing in the dark cavern that could have been a secluded cave. Could have been a basement in a rundown apartment, for that matter. Or a figment of the imagination.

"What is it?" An obviously important voice, this one. Almost a whisper, but sinister in its quietness. Like the rustle of dry bones, it was apparently more than it seemed. It had the potential, you might say.

"We believe that someone...or something...has greatly weakened the boy's mental barriers. Not that he ever had any real 'barriers' to speak of, sir." The one of lesser rank made a pitiful attempt to wring the beginnings of anxiety out of his words.

Best to act with trepidation, for he was literally dealing with Death itself here. One wrong word and it would be too late. Then again, it wouldn't make a difference what he said or didn't say; his master had a way of finding out regardless. He couldn't win. Why consider fighting in the first place?

"And this improvement is not of our doing?" A gloating tone, but the master had reason to gloat. His voice could sound almost amused, if one listened closely--like a father playing trivial games with his children.

Best to remain cautious.

"No, my lord, it is not. We are unsure who or what is responsible, but I assure you-"

"Good. That is all I needed to hear. Any decimation of his mental state is helpful, no matter the cause."

The master seemed pleased. Dare he sigh with relief?

"I assume we can proceed with the plan?"

"Of course."

A long, nerve-wracking silence fell like a heavy burden upon the inferior's shoulders. Though virtually invisible in the chasm of darkness, you could almost _feel_ the man with the anxious voice fidgeting and twisting his hands. You could almost _feel_ the other smiling in sadistic amusement, with the knowing-but-not-caring sneerish expression of little children who pull the legs off insects.

A painful minute passed. The man squirmed impulsively. Then, at last, his master decided that he'd had enough fun for the time being.

"You may take your leave," he hissed with palpably stinging sarcasm.

The other gave a shaky sigh of relief.

"Thank you, Orochimaru-sama."

* * *


	2. Count Your Blessings

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

2. _Count Your Blessings_

_Fall not into degrading weakness, _

_For this becomes not a man who is a man._

_Throw off this ignoble discouragement,_

_And arise like a fire that burns all before it._

_-The Bhagavad Gita_

"So...that's about the size of it." Kakashi waved a sheath of papers in a half-hearted attempt at his usual laziness, steeping his voice in synthetic cheer. How he hated himself now, hated the fact that he couldn't be thankful. Couldn't accept reality; couldn't accept that Sasuke had made as full a recovery as could be expected during these three long weeks. So what if he still seemed a little 'out of it'? Nothing wrong with that. Right?

The teacher cursed himself mentally, a thousand times over. Why couldn't he be happy for them? Why couldn't he just take it and run, the fact that Team 7 had made it through their trials unscathed? Why did it have to be so hard?

Why?

Naruto hopped up and down in mechanical eagerness. His erratic movements now bordered on robotic. Kakashi looked away as discreetly as he could, resisting the impulse to shake his head vigorously. Seriously...what was wrong with him these days? Ignoring the inner disgust that welled within him, he lumped an unhealthy helping of ersatz enthusiasm into his words.

"Anyways, here you go," he said, passing out the crisp forms to each student. "Like I told you, the Chuunin Exams are entirely voluntary. You aren't _required_ to take part, but if you _want_ to, fill out these forms and report to Room 301 at the school by 4:00 tomorrow afternoon. That is all."

The silver-haired instructor paled inwardly at his speech, knowing full well how gruesomely preplanned it sounded. His emphasis on their right to choose, non-existent as it was, made him fight the urge to grimace in repulsion. He could feel himself losing his cool all too quickly. Keeping his eyes away from the three Genin, he faded guiltily into a misty haze.

* * *

The raven-haired boy turned the piece of paper over and over in trembling hands. He giggled, a burst of incomprehensible noise like a burbling sewer. He hugged the parchment to his chest, squeezing his shoulders with tense, bony fingers, rocking back and forth on his heels. He was happy, oh so happy. Not in the way the emotion should be interpreted, but happy nonetheless. 

For the voice was in control now, and he was glad of it. The others had long since fled, lost in some corner of the labyrinth that was his mind. And the pink—she was no more than a ghost, the voice reminded him. You killed her with your amazing shuriken of death, remember? She haunts you, but can do nothing to harm you. You've made it, and that's all that matters, remember? Remember?

Sasuke did not remember, nor did he care. The voice was right. He'd made it, really he had. And now, look at this—his reward for surviving! For being the strongest! And he would have shouted that, too, shouted it to the world, but for some reason the voice told him not to.

His eyes skimmed the cream-colored document. His hands twitched with the impatience to fill the immaculate spaces, to write his name on the thin dotted line with bold black strokes, to violate the impossible orderliness. Nothing on earth had the right to remain so unscarred, so unmarked, so disturbingly peaceful. _Nothing_.

His hands twitched faster. He _needed_ to write, here and now! A pen, a pencil, charcoal even—anything at all! Here and now! Now and here! _Now_!

The voice heard him. It always did. Before he could think, not like he needed to anyway, the kunai was in his grasp, slitting the index finger on his right hand. Sasuke marveled at the thin, pretty line of red that streaked down his palm, gazing in rapture until the line dripped off his wrist and splotched the beige of the application. That was his signal.

He filled out the dreadfully blank lines in a matter of seconds, with a quick sequence of swordfighter-strokes. _That's right_, he cooed to himself, looking fondly at the crimson smears quickly shimmering to a warm orange-brown. _I don't need to think anymore. The voice will do it for me. _The Uchiha shivered in excitement, laughing with hysterical quietness as he took the road less traveled towards his home.

* * *

Naruto stared at the parchment in front of him with the peculiar awe of skepticism. He didn't believe it. He couldn't believe it. But he wanted to believe it, so badly... 

He ran his fingers over the smooth print, trying to make sure this wasn't some daydream. He pinched himself, once and then twice, and the paper did not disappear. _This was real. _

A smile of pure joy broke onto his face as the blonde-haired boy carefully folded the form and slipped it into a pocket. _This was really happening_. He reached into the pocket with a compulsive thrill, feeling the evenness of the paper, its pointy edges pressing his palms ever so slightly. Reminding him that he was here, it was here. _Here_.

Without warning, he jumped up into the air and let out a harsh whoop, breaking into a run for a celebratory ramen.

* * *


	3. Smiles All Around

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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* * *

Bathing in Blood_**

3. _Smiles All Around_

_Of weapons I am the thunderbolt, _

_And of cows the cow of wonder..._

_I am the cleverness in the gambler's dice._

_I am the goodness of those who are good._

_-The Bhagavad Gita_

The pink-haired girl glanced at the application form, her face as expressionless as the paper. Green orbs shifted benignly up to down, side to side, reading the plain, simplified modern text. Well-meaning, straightforward characters, they were. Maybe _too_ well-meaning for her taste. And almost hilariously straightforward; more like a child's make-believe secret code than an actual, real-life language.

She skimmed through the text, eyes finding a focus on the blanks at the bottom of the page. Drawing out a primitive-looking pencil, she scribbled a quick signature in the first space. Almost smirking, she briefly fantasized about what would happen if she wrote her name in the old characters instead of the clumsy, angular new ones.

However, whatever amusement she'd drawn from the idea vanished quickly—it was best not to attract attention. Best to appear harmless, appear normal. And 'normal' genin didn't know two languages.

Sakura's vision strayed to the last line. 'Parent/Guardian Permission'. A current of unsolicited disgust roiled under her calm façade. Why did they always have to do this—say it was a 'choice' left 'entirely up to you', and then respectfully request 'parents/guardians' to make the final decision? Didn't they trust the future 'guardians' of Konoha to do what they thought was right?

An expression similar to a sneer crept over her face. She scratched a few characters onto the dotted line.

_Dead._

Maybe this would get the message across?

Satisfied, the girl folded the paper, hiding it away in a hidden pocket. With a meaningless shrug, she faded into the forest, dematerializing specter-like until all that remained was a wisp of unseen mist.

* * *

Naruto sighed and patted his stomach as he strode away from the ramen shop. He'd told everyone at Ichiraku about his good fortune, and while there were always the few that only gave aggravated scowls, he'd succeeded in earning whole-hearted congratulations at best, or at worst a wan smile, from most of the diners. 

It made the rare good things in his life last so much longer, to share them with others, willing or not.

He sighed again, taking in his surroundings. Who would have guessed that a cloudy sky looked so beautiful, gray against shades of gray? The sound of birds calling raucously, the wind blowing, the large rock scuffling a few feet behind...

Naruto stopped mid-step, comically shocked. Glanced over his shoulders, eyeballs straining to the corners of his sockets. Absurdly suspicious. Indiscreetly discreet. The box-like structure slid clumsily across the uneven cobblestone. Loud whispers, smothered giggles of risibly visible stealth, wafted out unchecked. Wide brown eyes peered mischievously from two circular holes, then quickly vanished.

The blonde-haired boy couldn't help but let out a laugh of his own.

"Here's a hint—rocks don't have perfect angles, perfect corners...or eye holes! Big clues, don't ya think?" He pointed an accusing finger, laughing again and hearing muffled squeaks from his surprised stalkers. Cautiously, the edge of the box lifted. Three short, scruffy figures untangled themselves to stand. A dark-haired boy, a light-haired boy, and a girl in pigtails.

In spite of himself, Naruto gave a disappointed grimace. Who else? It was only Konohamaru, bratty grandson of the Hokage, and his gang of misfits. Those kids treated him like a god on earth, but damn, were they annoying. "Oh...it's just you guys. What do you want?"

Konohamaru ignored his idol's obvious disenchantment. Naruto was the only one that treated them half-decent anyways—the few glares and less-than-enthusiastic words he and his friends received from this respected figure were more than worth it. He grinned. Naruto was _valuable_. Worth the trouble.

"You promised to play with us today, didn't you?" All three whined together. "How could you forget something like that!"

Naruto looked sheepish. He remembered all too well. Trying to fight the guilt that lapped at his feet, he reminded himself that he had to train. Train for the Chuunin Exams. Cram in everything so he'd be half-ready for tomorrow.

But he couldn't. He couldn't let them down, these kids that looked up to him, praised him, revered him. And he wouldn't let them down. The training could wait. It always could.

Feigning a groan of edgy acquiescence (gods forbid that they think he actually _wants_ to play with them), the blonde-haired boy smiled in spite of himself. "Alright. What exactly do you want to do?"

"Let's play tag!" the girl in pigtails squealed with worshipful eyes. The other two seconded the motion.

And so the game began.

"You're it, boss!" Konohamaru screamed at Naruto. A subtle way to sort-of get back at their leader, for being so falsely hesitant. The boss glowered, but made no objections.

"Eeek! He's it!"

"Can't catch me, slowpoke!"

"Hah—slower than a turtle!"

Konohamaru looked behind him as he scrambled madly towards nowhere. Naruto was right behind him, catching up all too quickly. His short child-legs were losing strength, he was going to fall, he was going to trip. Not like it mattered; this was all a game, but it mattered so much—

He felt his shoulder crunch up against something. A tree? A black, cloth-covered tree wearing boots? He glanced upwards, though there was no need. The tree tugged his collar, pulling him from his slumped position. His feet dangled a sickening distance above the cobblestone, hanging like a human piñata in the grasp of the branch-like arm. At least he had the good sense to keep silent.

For the game was far from over.

* * *


	4. Diversion

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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* * *

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**_Bathing in Blood_**

4. _Diversion_

_The unreal never is: _

_The Real never is not. This truth indeed_

_Has been seen by those who can see the true._

_-The Bhagavad Gita_

Ino raced up the narrow street, with the air of one not accustomed to running. Her boot-clad feet slapped the ground with painful irregularity; her breathing was rushed and ragged-shallow. Her lungs felt scorched, liquid-filled and yet dry as a bone . The blonde ponytail bounced and slapped the nape of her neck accusingly. It was true that she hadn't done all the laps Asuma-sensei recommended, but she was busy. Very busy.

Very busy reading love stories and imagining her Sasuke-kun.

And she didn't regret that. Not a bit. (_What is there to regret!_) Of course, it was rather late to be regretting things now. (_I tell you, there's nothing I'm regretting!_) Not with the Chuunin Exams coming up so soon. Not with the application folded in her clenched fist. (_I'm not regretting anything, dammit!) _Rather late, indeed.

Letting the disgrace of exhaustion overcome her, the girl collapsed onto a nearby bench. Her thighs felt numb, but her unused arms burned ferociously. Gradually, she uncurled her hand from around the paper she held. Unfolded it and stared blankly at the columns and columns of text, looking intently at the characters without reading them.

How many words in this sentence? How many sentences on this form? How many dots in each line?

5. 9. 14.

The numbers did not connect. This made no sense.

She crumpled up the sheet again. Better to fill it out at her own house. Yes, much better. With a sigh, Ino stood and stretched her arms toward the clouded sky, walking slowly and methodically homewards.

* * *

Konohamaru knew he couldn't take this much longer. His fragile nerves fizzed with shocks of electricity that shot straight as an arrow through the center of his bones. His feet swung as he unconsciously arced away from his captor, away from the gloved hand that squeezed his collar all the more tightly. Silence was the name of the game. But he no longer wanted to play.

"Put him down!"

From the corner of a watery eye, he watched as an orange blob-like amoeba scrambled towards him. The amoeba tripped over air, rolled into a ball, fell and fragmented into countless shards. And Konohamaru remained where he was, hanging helplessly and haplessly like a criminal on the gallows. Shifting with the winds.

By now Naruto had managed to get up. _How did I trip?_

He looked in confusion at the scrapes on his hands and the dirt on the knees of his pants. Then at the smooth, uninterrupted ground behind him. Nothing to trip on there. _Am I bewitched...?_

It took a pitiful squeal from the one he had intended to save in the first place to break the self-induced haze of thought. The lean, black-garbed figure stood there still, dangling the boy so his trademark trailing scarf brushed the earth.

He observed an unfamiliar young girl with her hair in four messy pigtails walking up behind the intruder, scolding him, or so he hoped. He caught a name, 'Kankurou', but the rest was a blur.

He was no more than a spectator now, relegated to the sidelines.

Relegated by his instinctive fear.

"We still have to look for _him, _Kankurou!" Her voice was high and thin. "I don't intend to be held responsible for this!"

Though he shuddered slightly at the mention of the mysterious 'him', the dark stranger seemed unmoved.

"The brat bumped into me, for Chris'sake!" He raised an undecided fist to the mop of brown hair. "We can go get the nuisance after I finish this one off."

Konohamaru's friends screamed and hurried to hide behind each other as Kankurou took an unnecessary fighting stance. Their voices made mincemeat of the doom-ridden silence. All was still.

And then the game was over, suddenly and without fanfare. Its end marked by a sharp intake of breath from the stranger in black, matched by the reflexive exhale from the onlookers as the boy was dropped into a sniveling heap. The blonde-haired boy started to run over to him, but stopped at a low, pained growl from Kankurou.

"What the hell happened now?" shrilled his female companion, annoyed and bewildered. He grasped his wrist, trembling, but other than that hiding the pain quite well. As the girl shook her head in disgust and all but forced him to follow her down the road, nobody noticed the small stone that clattered to the pavement. It glowed red for a moment, and then faded away.

* * *


	5. Withdrawing Within

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

5. _Withdrawing Within_

_With upright body, head, and neck,_

_Which rest still and move not;_

_With inner gaze which is not restless,_

_But rests still between the eyebrows..._

_-The Bhagavad Gita_

She stared blankly at her hand. It was invisible, she was invisible. Or as close to invisible as a low-level anonymity jutsu would allow.

She could see the lines her form made in the air. The bones were thin iridescent streaks of ultraviolet blue, knotted at the joints. The skin, a thin film of pink stretched over the fluorescent framework like an intricate net. She gazed through her palm, through the leaves, down to the street below the tree she was perched in. A most interesting drama was taking place below.

The brunette boy was stumbling to stand, knees quaking, a human turned to gelatin. His friends, the light-haired ones, clustered in a cramped circle around him with concerned looks scratched onto their features. Even Naruto, the 'comic' of the bunch, the clown with the near-permanent mask. _Near_-permanent, because the mask was off now.

_Near_-permanent, because in its place she saw a face unrecognizable, distorted by fear, guilt, and the many agonies of worry.

And that was all well and good, but none of this frippery of feelings answered her unasked question. Why? Why had she done it? Whatever happened to the child had no effect on her. What did she care if he got what was coming to him?

_Why did she throw the stone? _

She glared through her palm now, eyes tracing the patterns of the cobblestone pavement. Was it instinct?

Sakura hopped down from the tree limb, landing soundlessly in the underbrush. Her face twisted into an uncontainable grimace, a wild hybrid of the smirk and the frown. If her 'instincts' were what made her go around saving stupid, snot-nosed brats, she needed to teach these instincts something better than throwing rocks.

* * *

Sasuke reclined on the ragged, moth-eaten couch. He felt its aging springs creak in reproach at his leisure, and visualized the crumbs of crimson-brown rust that flaked onto the wooden floor like bloody metal dandruff as he shifted his weight. An unruly coil half-poked its way through the crumbling foam inside the cushions to prod his back gently, not really painful but just enough for annoyance. 

He would have been comfortable, but he was not. The voice was silent today. Uneasily so. Its absence left a void where his thoughts should have resided. He had no opinions today.

With a sigh, the raven-haired boy arched his neck backwards over the worn, frayed upholstery of the armrest. From here, he could see out the dirt-streaked curtain-less windowpane, down the street and around the corner. People walked by unawares, on the ceiling of his vision. Clouds scuttled like beads of mercury over the floor.

The lack of sun didn't really bother him, of course; light only made his diminutive personal space seem worse for wear. It was like rubbing salt in one of his many wounds, over and over again with the sunrise.

_Well, more like salt in a paper-cut, but it's the thought that counts, and the angst that sells..._

He was the heir to the most prestigious of the Konoha ninja clans, yet he was living in a cheap three-room apartment. He should have had access to a monstrous fortune, yet he was stuck with a thrift-shop budget. 'Should' meant nothing here; for the money had disappeared with Him, and the mansion had been demolished years before, rendered unusable by the Incident.

Indeed, 'should's lacked a place in his world. Only the past mattered to him. All that made a difference was what had been.

On the sidewalk below (or was it above?), an upside-down toddler with frizzy cinnamon-colored hair sucked a swirled lollipop. Cheeks bulged to accommodate the mass of flavored sugar that outsized its owner's pudgy hands. Fingers clutching the treat tightly, sticky with artificial rainbow.

Sasuke looked away, feeling the onset of an unwanted, unnamed memory. Flopping over onto his stomach, ignoring the squeaky protests of the furniture beneath him, he reached into a pocket, fumbling for the crumpled paper. Drew it out, smoothed the creases, looking without seeing. And urging tomorrow afternoon to hurry on its way.

* * *


	6. A Study in Overload

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Puppet in Pink**_

6. _A Study In Overload_

_But of what help is it to thee_

_To know this diversity?_

_Know that with one single fraction of my Being_

_I pervade and support the Universe,_

_And know that I AM._

_-The Bhagavad Gita_

"Doctor, we have a report on patient A24J67."

The nurse's voice was soft yet urgent as she clicked up the hallway at a mincing high-heeled pace, clutching a file folder to her chest. The white-clad shoestring of a man who she spoke to stopped mid-step and turned to look at her.

"A24J67...She was checked out of here nearly a month ago. We have no legal obligation to continue research on her." He knew as well as she did that what he said was the truth, yet the slight quaver in his tone betrayed an uncommon eagerness. "Tell me anyways, though."

The nurse seemed smug, smiling through curls of sandy hair as she handed him the sheath of paper. "See for yourself. I haven't even read it yet. I didn't have the 'legal obligation' to, or the 'legal time'."

With that, she whirled and walked away, pleased at the thought of having said something as mockingly 'witty' as the quips from her favorite soap operas.

* * *

A sudden metallic screech from the telephone sliced through the layers of sleep Kakashi had managed to accumulate. With groggy instinct, the silver-haired teacher turned over and pulled the pillow over his head in a futile effort to drown out the electronic wailing. _Let the answering machine get it. _

He peered cautiously from under his blankets at the digital clock on his nightstand. Its glowing red lights winked at him emotionlessly, burning an angular 2:48 AM into his retinas.

_Yeah, let the damn answering machine get it. _

Kakashi listened for the familiar click, wondering in spite of himself who the _hell_ his caller was.

All he got was the cowardly white noise of empty silence, recorded with nonsensical precision onto an impersonal reel of magnetic tape.

"Stupid telemarketers..." he muttered, yawning. Giving in to his tired mind, dropping his consciousness like a coin down the elevator shaft of slumber. It was only a matter of waiting for the thin ring of metal as it hit bottom.

* * *

The doctor put down the phone with a sigh. Running his hand through greasy salt-and-pepper hair, he tried to put an end to the mental debate that wracked his sleep-deprived brain. Should he have told the girl's instructor? Should he have left a message, instead of just hanging up like some B-movie stalker? 

He hadn't gotten around to reading the report until way after midnight. There were always the lawyers. Stupid lawyers, calling, threatening to sue, claiming that they knew with absolute certainty what he did last summer. Distracting. Even now, _after_ reading the information, he wasn't sure if he'd really read it at all.

The doctor stared at the neatly stacked and stapled collection of papers that took center stage on his normally cluttered desk, outshining by far the dim lamp with the dusty yellow shade and the stained coffee mug half-filled with a distasteful opaque brown liquid.

He wondered who the writer was; if whoever had typed the fifty-something pages knew what he was talking about.

He didn't really want to know the answer.

Details of information came back unbidden, from wherever he'd filed them in the twenty minutes it had taken to read. He let them wash over him, knowing no other way to dull his all-too-sharp mind for the moment. To placate his needling intelligence, to draw himself away from the real target with tantalizing decoys.

According to the report, a new machine had been acquired a few days after A24J67's release. Partly in jest, partly to test, an anonymous intern had (purportedly) fed the data for abovementioned patient's scans into the apparatus. What he found (apparently) gave him cause for alarm, seeing as how said intern managed to get the results to one of his superiors.

And here began the 'turmoil'. The scans of the scans, if one could even put faith in such a fluke, (allegedly) showed an anomaly in the chakra coil system. No specifics as to the type of anomaly; scans still officially labeled 'indistinct'.

Meaningless.

Should have ended there.

But no, the writer just _had_ to give concrete proof of his foolishness. Babbled on, stated that there was only one known jutsu that could have caused such an abnormality, contradicting himself and reminding the reader that of course that was impossible, that the jutsu had been locked up for years due to high risk, no need to worry.

In other words, it was a lot of talk and nothing said. Complete, utter gibberish. "Nothing said at all," the doctor grumbled, easing himself up from his chair. His feet had fallen asleep. Tossing the report into the overflowing garbage can, he laughed at how stupid everyone else in this world was.

* * *


	7. Hearsay

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

**_

* * *

_**

**_Bathing in Blood_**

7. _Hearsay_

_He journeyed, forever joyless,_

_Straight to the door..._

_And his heart laughed, he relished the sight,_

_Intending to tear the life from those bodies._

_-Beowulf_

What's wrong with wanting what you don't have?

The inventor of the telephone wanted a talking wire.

The inventor of the television wanted a picture radio.

The inventor of the computer wanted a thinking typewriter

...Right?

The blonde-haired girl shifted her shoulders, relaxing as the television cast grainy images of a black-and-white love into the darkened living room. What if she were that beautiful bone-thin brunette? And what if the dark knight falling conveniently into her arms was her Sasuke-kun?

What if?

_I'm sure that girl doesn't obsess over whether every petal is perfect in the roses he gives her. I'm sure that boy didn't see his parents massacred with his own eyes. I'm sure he didn't have half a village chasing after him. _

Then the thought occurred to her. Could they be normal?

What _was_ normal? Was it living in a happy, four-member family, forever cheerful and forgiving? Where were these ideal families hiding, that she'd never seen them before? Or, maybe there was no such thing as 'normal'. Maybe it was just an illusion, like an undetectable genjutsu, pushing the world for unattainable perfection.

But was it so bad, to dream of something you know you'll never have?

No. Wait. She did _not_ say that. She _would_ get her Sasuke-kun, she had to. She'd sacrificed everything in her life that mattered. If anybody deserved the raven-haired genius, it was Yamanaka Ino.

All too soon, the movie was over, defeated soundly by a commercial for spring water. Even water was more important than true love.

But that wasn't _her_ opinion. She knew her opinion like the back of her hand. True love will conquer all. True love will conquer _ALL_, dammit!

Even friendship.

Even life itself.

And, was that a bad thing?

Ino's eyes strayed to her watch. The Chuunin Exams started in less than half an hour. Reluctantly she rose from the couch, sidling over to the hall mirror to check her makeup. Satisfied, yet knowing that she would curse herself later for her leniency in skincare, she grabbed a cosmetics-filled purse and walked to the door.

Dignified. A true lady.

As she tripped delicately along the short gravel path through her lawn, she felt something brush her leg. Daisies. Squeezing her eyes shut, she broke into a clumsy, desperate run. She _knew_ what her opinion was. Knew it like the back of her hand!

And in spite of her efforts, the little voice stirred groggily in its hidden corner, and whispered sinisterly-soft that, for all she knew, the back of her hand was uncharted territory.

* * *

Naruto glanced around worriedly. The grounds outside of the Academy were overflowing, filled to bursting with a teeming, seething mass of people. The noise stormed past him like an unstoppable typhoon of voices.

This was a huge crowd. A vast one. A loud one. And he liked big things. He liked loud things. He liked crowds, moreover. Why, then, did he feel so nervous? So tense, like the air was an atom-bomb set to explode at the slightest mistake?

Shuddering vaguely, he tried to shake off his fears. It was probably because there were so many other ninjas around him, possible opponents and possible killers. There were the crazy ones, and there were the crazier ones.

He had to watch out for both.

A trio of chattering, eager genin brushed past, sending Naruto spinning. He searched the swarm for his teammates. Sakura-chan, at least, seemed to know where she was going. And Sasuke...who knew? Who cared?

Now was _not_ the time to chicken out. Taking a deep breath, and gagging on the dusty, humid air, the blonde-haired boy raced towards the pink-haired leader, towards the doors that would make all the difference.

* * *


	8. Hear Them Say

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

8. _Hear Them Say_

_And at last I could see the land, wind-swept_

_Cliff-walls at the edge of the coast. Fate saves_

_The living when they drive away death by themselves!_

_-Beowulf_

"Damn you! Let us in!" The girl, brown hair gathered into buns on either side of her head, gingerly ran a finger over the bruise that was swelling on the side of her face. A spiky-haired boy kicked her aside with deliberate nonchalance, snorting as he watched her fold into a crumpled heap on the wooden floor.

"What weaklings," his comrade sneered, leaning against the door with his hands on his hips.

The girl slowly uncurled her legs and rose unsteadily to her feet, glancing helplessly at her two teammates. _They both look angry._ White eyes glared. _They're gonna blow. _Black eyes glittered. _I just know it. What happened to our plan? What happened to keeping a low profile?_

In distress, she looked to the wooden placard mounted on the wall, over the entrance. The entrance to the room that would make all the difference; in her future, in her life, in her dreams. The three numbers that meant so much.

3  
0  
1

The figures whirled in her vision like shuriken, blurring and disintegrating into something not quite there. She rubbed her eyes in brisk annoyance with the back of a scraped-raw hand, and found that nothing had changed.

Tenten sighed, a nameless exhalation of emotion. Playing pathetic was messing with her mind. _Nobody_ pushed _her_ around like this. Why did they even want to fake weakness anyway?

_If we want to get in, we have to fight!_

Seeing their teammate draw into a discreet fighting stance, Neji and Rock Lee gave a fleeting look to each other.

Agreed.

They had come to a decision, all three of them, but before they could act, an exclamation from another genin reeled in their already baited attention.

"That team isn't stopping at the door! They're going to the wrong place!"

"So what? Let them. The fewer teams, the less competition we're going to have, right?"

"Look! Isn't that the Uchiha boy?"

"Ooh! It's Sasuke! He's just, like, _the_ hotness, isn't he?"

And the procession moved on, oblivious to the squeals and shouts of the crowd. Pink hair, blonde hair, black hair. And silence, too, silence in the midst of an ocean of noise.

Silence, like the parting of the Red Sea, dividing the ocean into halves.

A girl in a ponytail hurried up to the quiet ones, leaving her companions to bicker with the two bullies guarding the door. Her pink flowered purse swung jauntily at her side, garishly contrasting with the dark clothing she wore. A smile of pure worship was smeared across her face like makeup hastily applied, bleeding into tepid blue eyes. With a giggle, she jumped piglike onto the raven-haired boy.

"Sasuke-kun! I haven't seen you in ages!" Ino cooed, trying to make a nest for herself on the Uchiha's back. Sasuke shuddered and pressed his hands together, clenching and unclenching his fingers as he shook the girl off.

"D-don't touch. Don't touch _me_," he stuttered, backing away and giving her a weak, glowering look.

Noticing nothing amiss, the blonde remained unperturbed, awaiting Sakura's greeting. 'Piglet! Sasuke-kun is mine, remember?'

Or even 'And good afternoon to you too, Ino-pig!'

But her rival didn't even notice her, didn't even spare a glance. Like she wasn't worth seeing.

And that was the worst insult of all.

"Hey, you! Forehead girl!" Ino slipped in front of the pink-haired shinobi, directly in her path. Her former friend sidestepped the obstacle and continued to walk, eyes mercifully hidden by overgrown bangs the color of cherry blossoms.

_She wears her headband on her forehead now..._

"Are you even listening to me! Come on! Answer me!" Impulsively, the blonde grabbed the bony, black-garbed shoulder. Without a word, green eyes glistened momentarily and slipped like jaded water out of her grasp.

"Sakura--" More like a choke or a sob than a word, but that could have just been because the name seemed so unfamiliar coming from Ino's lips.

Not like it mattered anyway, because Team Seven was halfway down the hall.

Tenten, Rock Lee, and Neji stared at the sitcom that had played out before them, if only for a minute. After that, they turned back to the problem at hand, which had mysteriously disappeared in front of a door labeled '201'.

* * *


	9. Hear Who Say?

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

9. _Hear Who Say?_

"_...You know (if we've heard_

_The truth, and been told honestly) that your country_

_Is cursed with some strange, vicious creature_

_That hunts only at night and that no one _

_Has seen. It's said, watchman, that he has slaughtered..._

_...brought terror to the darkness..."_

_-Beowulf_

Kakashi watched the three figures advance up the long catacomb of a hallway. Fluorescent lights flickered like candles in the wind from the cracked panels of the ceiling. Water stains the size of continents bloomed from the fissures a few feet above his head. The air pulsed with a living, low-profile electric hum that was not unfamiliar (though he just couldn't place where he'd heard it before), so quiet and yet so loud that it burned his ears. Ramming again and again against his world-weary nerves like a bird against a glass window.

_At least there was light._

His students were oddly silent, walking in a ghastly straight line, hands by their sides. Not a sound. Not the slightest sound. Even Naruto had acquired a grim, funeral-march façade.

"_You're pushing them too hard...making them grow up before their time..."_ Iruka's warnings and admonishments flooded back to him in a relentless rush, an unstoppable deluge that would somehow be stopped. Perhaps the teacher _had_ been right. Perhaps he _was_ breaking them.

Perhaps he should stop this nonsense of thinking, and get his mind back on the speech he needed to make.

The sound of unsynchronized footsteps, like the scuffling of rats, drew closer, and Kakashi fantasized for a moment about those parts in old horror movies, when you hear the feet of the unknown all too clearly and you know you can't run. But it was only a thought, right? Because what was there to be scared of in green eyes and cherry-blossom hair?

Even so, he took a subtle step backwards, hands reaching to feel the cold iron handles of the doors behind him. The doors to Room 301. The doors that would make all the difference; had made all the difference for generations upon generations of ninja hopefuls. He could feel the decades of tension that radiated from the metal; the anxiety and the excitement and the pent-up emotion vibrating through his skin.

Or maybe it was just his imagination.

Boot-clad feet stopped in front of him. The silver-haired teacher glanced hurriedly away from searching jade orbs.

_Nothing to worry about..._

"Sakura!" he exclaimed instead with not-quite-mock surprise, deciding to draw attention way from her and more towards her presence. "Glad you could make it."

Silence. The blonde-haired boy looked up with a quizzical glance, the only response he got for all that diplomacy.

Kakashi sighed in the depths of his mind. He'd planned his oration for a different Team Seven, one that no longer had a place in this world. _This_ Team Seven was no longer predictable.

"...This way, you're all qualified to apply for the Chuunin Exams," he added belatedly. Begging someone, anyone to ask him why.

Naturally, Naruto was the one to oblige. The other two seemed lost in their own realms, barely listening or not listening at all.

"What do you mean by that, sensei?" The silver-haired teacher couldn't help but cringe at the way the boy's shrill, questioning voice butchered the static-filled air.

_Great, just great, Kakashi. Only one student living, and you want them to take the Chuunins. _

"You see, the test was set up so it can only be taken by three-person cells," Kakashi explained, with an expression of sage-like patience and wisdom. "I just didn't want you pressuring each other to apply," he added hurriedly before he could think. He knew how irrelevant the words were as soon as they left his mouth. His students barely talked to each other. Why was he ever worried about 'pressure'?

"Anyways, I have to say that I'm very proud of you, so get in there and do your best!" The optimistic words hung like concentrated corn-syrup between them, bleeding with saccharine sweetness. The raven-haired boy gave a vague blink of annoyance, felt the stickiness of the air and pulled away in disgust. The pink-haired girl looked through him at the door and twitched unnoticeably.

And only Naruto, God rest both his souls, pumped a fist in the air with an buoyant battle cry.

"Look out, everybody, 'cause here we come!"

* * *


	10. Requisite Equivalent

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

10. _Requisite Equivalent _

_Seeing the sleeping beast, staring as it _

_Yawned and stretched, not wanting to wake it,_

_Terror-struck, he turned and ran for his life,_

_Taking the jeweled cup._

_-Beowulf_

"What...?"

Naruto's voice was almost a whisper, fearfully hoarse, so close to silence that it reverberated throughout the crowded classroom. Eyes of many colors immediately focused as one in the direction of the three newcomers, writing them off as rookies just as quickly.

"Pink hair?"

"Stupid punks."

"Midgets."

A few genin grumbled under their breath. These children were nothing compared to themselves, obviously. _Nothing._ A hundred minds constructed mental Venn diagrams, making sure to add generous servings of pluses for themselves to drown out the few minuses that skipped carelessly through their calculations. Their results didn't lie.

This was one team that they could beat with ease.

* * *

Naruto didn't like this feeling. So much attention, and he hadn't done a thing. It wasn't right. 

But it was too late now. What was done, was done.

...Or was it?

Without hesitation, without skipping too noticeable a beat, the blonde-haired boy opened his mouth to yell a declaration of... _and what was I going to say_? What _could_ he say, anyway?

The pink-haired girl was already heading to a seat, like normal, wordless and expressionless —and _what_ was this? Since when had he reclassified what was 'normal' for his Sakura-chan? Since when had he abandoned the Sakura he once knew? The girl with the big smile to match her big forehead; cheerful, lively, smart, superficial—

And did he _really_ say 'superficial'?

While his mind spun in an endless spiral of confusion, his body followed the winking flash of cherry-blossom step by step through the muttering herd of genin. Failing to notice the others that came in behind him.

* * *

Ino roughly scrubbed the newly-formed tears from her eyes. She knew without looking into her compact (buried by now in the depths of the purse banging against her hip) that her complexion had turned an unattractive shade of red, like that of a pouting child. _That couldn't really be helped,_ the trend-spotter in her head remarked absently, while the rest of her mind doggedly searched the throng for— 

and there she was, calm and cool as could be, eyes practically closed as she navigated effortlessly through the mass of gesticulating, noise-making bodies. Acting as if she hadn't just insulted _the_ Yamanaka Ino.

Because, technically, she hadn't. This was the logical corner of herself speaking now, and goddamn it, she was right.

_No! Damn _**you**_, Sakura! Damn _**you**

Feeling the tears clustering ever-eager in the corners of her vision, the blonde girl blinked in desperation. She cast a quick glance at her teammates to see if they'd seen. And the answer was no, of course.

Chouji stared at the bright design on the cellophane bag he cradled in his arms, feeding crisps conveyor-belt-style into a mouth ringed with flaked fried potato. Shikamaru's gaze was centered on the decaying ceiling, eyes tracing an incomprehensible map of cracks with nothing better to do. They wouldn't have noticed if she'd screamed.

Typical behavior for both of them. Why, then, did it make her so mad?

Ino was inundated with a sudden torrent of anger, childish frustrations flung like bricks into an open mind. _Nobody_ noticed her. Nobody knew she existed. Nobody cared.

_Damn them _**all**!

And what if she _did_ scream? Even the annoyed glares and rude asides would be better than this oblivion. Was this how Naruto felt? She could sense her very humanity slipping out of her grasp, rolling like a lost coin on the floor beside feet and under benches, to be lost forever in the cracks between the voices.

Then what would she do?

The moist blue eyes narrowed, pupils contracting to wicked little dots in a sea of pale sky. This was all Sakura's fault. All of it. It had to be. Brows drew stormily together; the painted mouth morphed an irate snarl.

_Yes. Sakura's fault_.

_...because everyone needs someone to blame..._

_...because everyone needs someone to bear their burden..._

_It's nothing personal, just because..._

Clenching her fists, Yamanaka Ino stomped determinedly to an empty bench. Let her good-for-nothing teammates find their own seats. They all hated her, every last one of them. What could she do but return the favor?

"Forehead girl..." she mumbled to herself, knowing no better insult than the grade-school taunt.

"...you are _dead_. So, _so_ _dead_..."

* * *


	11. Clutching at Trouble

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

**_

* * *

Bathing in Blood _**

11. _Clutching at Trouble_

_The best and most noble_

_Of his counsel debated remedies, sat_

_In secret sessions, talking of terror_

_And wondering what the bravest of warriors could do._

_-Beowulf_

The raven-haired boy looked at the crowd in silence. The silence of agoraphobia and utter fear, silence misinterpreted by the masses as aloofness and lone-wolf-ism. Silence often misinterpreted by oneself, as well.

_Don't you worry, Sasuke, you aren't scared. Trust me, you aren't scared..._

Still, Sasuke hung by the door. Why should he leave his stronghold of safety, when there were so many eyes out there? He watched Naruto follow the pink-haired girl through the ocean he refused to enter, sitting at one of the scarred benches. This was nothing but a _classroom_! Nothing but a _classroom_! Nothing but a stupid, genin-level _classroom_! Did they not think he was good enough for chuunin standards!

The Uchiha lapsed abruptly from an epidemic of anger to one of third-person musings. Because it appeared that Naruto could see the ghost, too. Because he was making a damn fool of himself, following her...no, **_it_**... around.

And _Sasuke_ just couldn't do things like that. He had so much more _class_.

So he edged, scared in a bite-me way, slowly around the perimeter of the room and away from the door. Deliberately moving towards the hated, much-abused seats, scanning the surroundings with comical caution.

Like a cornered tiger.

Looking scariest when he's trapped.

And then, out of the corner of a bloodshot eye, he noticed his salvation. A way to blend with the rest of the ninja without arousing unneeded suspicion.

A silver-haired teenager wearing a Konoha headband was kneeling on the tiled floor, flanked by eager genin. He held a neat pile of blue-black cards in one gloved hand, with the word 'shinobi' written on their backs in impeccable calligraphy. And he was talking. Talking all the while.

"The name's Kabuto. Like I said, I just wanna give you kids a heads-up...You're rookies, all of you—think you know everything. I remember how it felt. Heck, if anyone would know, I would. This is my seventh time applying for Chuunin." He spoke fast yet slow, his tone shaped into a lazy, premeditated drawl. "The least I can do for you is provide some intelligence on what you're getting yourselves into."

With the skill of a practiced salesman, he used the gap in his pitch to flourish the handful of cards in a fan. 'Shinobi' overlapping 'shinobi' overlapping 'shinobi', over and over again. The others gave a unified exclamation of awe, gazing upon the artfully-displayed goods with admiration.

"These are shinobi skill cards. They contain information about the skills that we use, burned into regular paper using chakra. I've got almost two hundred total—took me four years to collect all the data for this exam. They look blank, of course, but that's because there's only one way you can read 'em." Kabuto slapped the top card onto the scuffed linoleum, hunching over it and flicking quickly through a set of simple hand-seals. His audience leaned in closer, watching the white surface of their attention's focus crowd suddenly with a jumble of lines. The scribbles hurriedly rearranged themselves into familiar shapes—a map of the ninja nations.

Sasuke's eyes widened and he took a step forward, shivering with sheer excitement. Whatever was going on, the voice didn't like it. But rebellion coursed through his veins, if only for a little while, and he knew that the voice would never leave him. He took another step.

"This shows the number of applicants that each nation is sending to the Chuunins," the silver-haired teen explained smoothly. The observers held their breath. _Look at them. They're just eating it up. LOOK at them! _

"Do you by any chance have dossier cards? Cards for every individual applicant?"

Heads turned in the direction of the inquirer, who had gone unnoticed until then. Eyes took in the image of a handsome, dark, raven-haired boy with a posture radiating ice-cold confidence. A girl squealed; another blushed and gave a shy smile. Boys grumbled or wallowed in the rapid deluge of jealousy and inferior feelings. Kabuto snorted.

"Funny you should ask...Why? Is there someone you got a particular interest in?" He paused to smirk, then resumed speaking. "Yeah, I've got a set of dossiers for the current applicants, including your team. You're in Cell Seven, aren't you? Anyways, tell me what data you have on this person, and I'll be happy to look him up and let you know what facts I've got."

_Don't do it you already know the truth don't you dare ask that question don't you—_The voice was tense, hurried, harried, repeating the warning like a broken record. And he didn't really want to ask anymore.

But words, even unwanted ones, have a way of scaling the most well-guarded walls, at the most inconvenient of times.

"Haruno Sakura from Konoha." His tone was clear and strong; too clear and too strong. Strength for all to see, concealing the rotten core.

"You know the name? That makes my job simpler." Flipping leisurely through the deck with a card-shark's swift fingers, Kabuto plucked one dark rectangle of paperboard and performed the hand-seal. He took a moment to check it over, pupils dilating imperceptibly behind the thick lenses of his glasses.

"_Odd...That he would choose to look up someone from his own team...and such a weak member, too..." _

But there are other words and thoughts that remain dutifully imprisoned, and the silver-haired self-proclaimed genin handed over the information without comment.

The pounding of the voice in his head increased as the Uchiha ran a finger over raised lettering.

'Shinobi'.

Turning the dossier over with outer nonchalance, paying no mind to his own inward protests, he skimmed the paragraph and diagrams below it. Sasuke pointedly ignored the picture in the right-hand corner, in which green eyes stared with all-too-real realness. A leer pasted haphazardly across his countenance, he handed the card back and thanklessly retreated to a corner of anonymity. Relief flooded through him as he recited the facts in the unexpected emptiness of his mind.

"_Proficient in genjutsu, poor in jutsu, low stamina and lower chakra." _Reassuring systematic syllables that lined up in the straightest rows he'd seen. She was dead anyway; the voice had burned that undeniable fact into what had been his brain long ago. But maybe _they_ weren't aware of that. They didn't need to know.

It was fine by him if they kept deluding themselves like this, thinking that the specter they saw was a living, breathing human being. She was weak either way. She didn't matter, in life or in death.

A sophisticated excuse for a brawl broke out between Kabuto and an unfamiliar team of genin. Sasuke leaned back against the wall, watching sightlessly, smiling without expression. And somewhere, in the depths of his consciousness, the voice was purring, "_I told you so._"

* * *


	12. Alliteration

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

12. _Alliteration _

_But they saw _

_The dragon first, stretched in front_

_Of its tower, a strange, scaly beast_

_Gleaming a dozen colors dulled and_

_Scorched in its own heat._

_-Beowulf_

The drone of a hundred voices swarmed like a colony of ants, veering against their peers in choreographed chaos. Each merely one more part of the collection, differentiating themselves as a group by their devotion to following the rest, blending in for their own protection, though not quite conscious of that. And it was only the truly strong who stood alone, wordless, in the openness of the crowded room.

Jade eyes swept the multitude methodically, almost bored, searching for the slightest hint of a challenge, the faintest vestige of hidden power. Just as a sign to know that she hadn't wasted her time here after all.

Of course, they found it.

Sakura focused first on the aura—orangely demonic, without a doubt, overlain by a shaky gilding of human grayish-pink that was ever-so-slowly wearing thin.

_What luck! _An unsealed demon, trapped temporarily in a flimsy vessel!

The pink-haired girl raised an eyebrow. If she guessed right, the demon was doing the same as she—scanning the crowd for a human strong enough to toy with. She patted her shoulder-bag of scrolls almost regretfully. It would have been fun to surprise it with a sudden burst of chakra.

_But chakra is no longer my specialty. It will just have to wait and see for itself. And I...I'll just have to be patient. _

A distant yet distinct crackling in the atmosphere alerted her to the sudden appearance of a fierce-looking posse of ninja. Their leader, a long dark trench-coat hanging gauntly over his uniform, stepped forward with a grim smile that showed off the large scars crisscrossing his face.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting. I am Morino Ibiki, proctor and chief examiner for this part of the test."

The tall man's mere appearance shattered the confidence of many genin. Sweat poured down their faces as they awaited his next words. Somehow they all knew, or were under the impression, that they could die here, die now. Here and now. Sakura smirked at their open displays of fear.

A black-gloved finger rose grimly, like the hand of Death, pointing at an unfamiliar team that had had been quibbling with a silver-haired Konoha teen. Sliced lips twisted into a mild snarl, sending a shockwave of shivers throughout the flock.

"You—the brats from Sound! You seem to think you can do whatever you please when the exam's about to start. Do you want to be _disqualified_ instead?"

One of the 'brats' turned a head swathed in bandages, staring scornfully over his shoulder with one ledge-less window of an eye. "Sorry, sir. It's our first exam. We got a bit...carried away. Won't happen again." With something vaguely like a scoff, he turned away.

Ibiki's grin refused to fade. His eyes glared from beneath the silver leaf symbol on his forehead. "That so?" he sneered with authoritative cockiness, matching the Sound nin's sarcasm word for word. "Then it's time someone laid a few ground rules. From this point on, no more fighting without the express permission of the examining officer. Should that permission be given, any action that might endanger another applicant's life is strictly forbidden."

He paused for emphasis, relishing the terror of the students before him.

"And those of you who choose to break that rule are out. No second chances. Is that clear?"

One of the Sound shinobi nudged his comrade and shared an arrogant chortle. But the examiner, pointedly ignoring them, had not finished speaking.

"The first part of the exam is about to commence. Turn in your applications, take a seating assignment card, and report to the bench indicated. Once everybody is in their place, we will pass out the written portion of the test."

He waited for the throng's response, attentively giving them no attention at all. Because, truth to be told, he didn't really care. It was just part of his job.

Sakura shuffled covertly through her school-bag, drawing out her application and giving it a final glance. She looked at her teammates quickly—Naruto following a few steps behind, Sasuke trailing into the depths of infinity. The mob of others slowly rearranged around them into a straight line, stepping up with the courage of cowards to trade in their forms for numbered tiles. The pink-haired girl wondered briefly if she should laugh at the irony, the metaphor waiting to happen.

The herd was lining up, obedient and willing, expecting nothing and everything at the same time. Standing eagerly in line at the chopping block.

* * *


	13. Say It Isn't So

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

13. _Say It Isn't So_

_Suddenly_

_The sounds changed, the Danes started_

_In new terror, cowering in their beds as the terrible_

_Screams of the Almighty's enemy sang_

_In the darkness..._

_-Beowulf_

Sakura listened disjointedly as Ibiki's droning voice recited the rules in a gratingly practiced manner. She looked down at the test in front of her, turned over so its unblemished white back glared in defiance at the writhing wounds of the ceiling. That had been the first rule, only one of an endless ooze of regulations gradually accumulating in the stuffy classroom air.

'Keep your paper face-down until the examiner gives the signal.'

And some good _it_ did.

It was a laughable thought; or an afterthought, perhaps. Did the scowling proctors, sitting so stiffly, like stone demigods lining the walls, really think that such trifles would stump _her_? It was an oversight. An insult.

_So this is a teamwork thing, he says. Yet we are all separated. _Her mind quickly put two and two together, then added one more. _We aren't being tested on the questions themselves. We're being tested on our ability to cheat, and communicate information secretly. _

Without warning, the pale face shadowed by pink hair snapped into a smile.

It was only a matter of guarding her answers...and keeping her teammates' points above zero.

* * *

"You may begin." 

Ino flipped her test over with hair-trigger tenseness. Its edges grasped with fiendish fervor by sweaty, well-manicured fingers, eyes skimming the columns of text madly. Blue irises framed with bloodshot white drowning in a deluge of numbers and symbols looming between the fast-forming tears.

_Breathe, Ino_.

_**Breathe**, Ino._

_Breathe! BREATHE, FOR GOD'S SAKE!_

But the blonde-haired girl couldn't breathe, not for the sake of God, nor any other one of the multiple holy figures whose names were available to use in vain. Because her bewildered vision was focused on one thing. The girl sitting two rows ahead, scribbling like crazy, with a purpose.

Jealousy.

Rage.

Hatred.

Anger.

Frustration...

...a little bit of hurt, too. And slowly, that part of the girl named Ino, that antagonist, that nagging little time bomb with nuclear potential, readied itself to take control.

Somewhere in the distance there was the high-pitched, heart-rending shriek of a young child, pain beyond belief, all because of that troublesome, _troublesome _memory; two toddlers, one pink-haired, the other golden blonde, sharing a strawberry ice-cream cone, giggling noisily. Silenced forever in the depths of oblivion.

And it hurt, so bad, but not nearly enough. The thing that was once Yamanaka Ino gave a sudden skull-like grin, and Fate was sealed.

_My prize technique...my _only_ technique...I've waited so long..._ Choppy thoughts disentangled themselves from their lifelong bondage, rushing on shaky legs to freedom. _...for the moment I could use it on you, Sakura, _you_And now, I will repay you, for _EVERYTHING. I WILL DESTROY YOUR---

* * *

Naruto rubbed his pounding temples. Nervous again. Just when he'd thought the green waves of nausea had finally receded. 

All because of the quiet, sliced too cleanly by one solitary voice. An unvarying, monotonous black line of a voice, winding like an electrical cord to constrict his consciousness.

He could feel his brain cells floundering as the toneless tone rumbled onward.

The blonde-haired boy looked at the paper on his desk. The questions most likely weren't _that_ hard, not so hard he'd get them _all_ wrong. He only needed one point to pass. One point. He didn't _need_ to cheat.

"You may begin."

Beaming with confidence, Naruto turned over his test.

* * *

The black-garbed examiner's stoic glare adjusted to one of mild, masked curiosity. One of the brats in the back row, a particularly whorish-looking blonde, had slumped into her seat as if asleep. 

"_Probably just some variation on the astral projection concept," _he muttered soundlessly. "_Predictable piglets." _

Just as he was about to look away, Ibiki saw a brief shudder run through the girl's abnormally thin frame. She clutched her head in unspeakable agony, then fell still once again.

* * *


	14. The Yellow Denizen

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

14. _The Yellow Denizen_

"_...Your luck may change if you challenge Grendel,_

_Staying a whole night in this hall,_

_Waiting where that the fiercest of demons can find you."_

_-Beowulf_

Sasuke traced a feverish finger along the razor-thin edge of the page. So many lines, so many dotted empty lines, just waiting to be filled in! All those squiggles were certainly troublesome, though; parts of that impossibly perfect cipher which might have formed words, ages and ages ago.

They had long since shed their meanings for him. Inching away from what they used to represent so proudly, slipping unnoticed from the chasms of what was probably his memory but could have been no more than some plot-less, poorly-told story. But then again, such tales have no ending, and only a shade of a beginning, and he simply couldn't have that. It wasn't the Uchiha way, you know? Uchihas, _real_ Uchihas, finished what they started.

Or perhaps they didn't. Did it matter?

The troubling, twisting characters met the raven-haired boy's Sharingan eyes with eerie placidity. This Uchiha was outnumbered here, outclassed. Defeated by a jumble of senseless wing-dings.

The voice didn't tell him that, though. It was still in hiding, somewhere, cowering from Sasuke's short-lived rebellion with the silver-haired boy. And now, when Sasuke was on his knees, begging it to come out, because the novelty had long since worn off, it ignored him. He could feel it, crumpled like a scrap of paper in the back of his mind; tried to grasp it like a child clawing for his favorite toy, without success.

And whether that was because of the confusion over who, in reality, was the _true_ toy, or for one of the million other unreasonable reasons the raven-haired boy couldn't think of...that was anyone's guess.

Except his, evidently.

Dust motes crawled across his cornea, adrift in a shaft of artificial light. Gripping the crippled, tooth-scarred pencil he'd found on the desk, Sasuke shut his eyes tightly. It was so alone in his head, so deserted, when the voice went away like this. So painfully vacant. And this emptiness was reflected on the blank cells of the test sheet, watching him with such unbearable scrutiny.

_If you can't see it, you're safe, Sasuke... _

His eyes snapped open. The voice. It was back.

_Don't say it like that...you knew all along I never left you...it was just a game, wasn't it? All just a game... _

The Uchiha nodded furiously. Of course it was. All just a game. _Always_ a game.

He smiled, clutching the pencil with the strength of the crazed. He didn't care that he hadn't heeded the warning; he was safe now regardless. The voice was back, to stay this time, and he wasn't so lonely anymore.

* * *

The vast waves of petals, an endless expanse of voiceless pastel shades, rustled mutely in defiance of the suffocating still air. Dancing for no reason at all, without the slightest sound. So quiet. 

And that was the worst thing about it, Ino thought brokenly. Not the flowers themselves, not the aching pulses of agony that this place seemed to be made from. Just the silence; the soundless void which should have been the whisper of leaves brushing leaves.

And behind that, the rising scream that was slowly dissolving the world outside.

The blonde-haired girl huddled in a pathetic scared-to-death ball, the fetal position, clutching her arms and hugging them tightly. She was locked into place now, and the scream still rose, louder, louder, louder _still!_ It was like an unscratchable itch, an unitchable scratch, something that wouldn't go away even if you did say 'please'.

It was emerging step by step from the chasm of noiselessness, though it wasn't a noise to begin with. More like a feeling, an emotion expressed, though what feeling it spoke for remained obscured.

And it wouldn't go away, it wouldn't go away. She didn't know what it was, but that made it all the more horrible. Maybe it _couldn't_ go away. But neither could she.

The shrieks rose to a fever pitch, splitting and budding and raising their shrill offspring with it to the sky. Then they died, because life is so short, only to mount again with new force, warbling like some natural siren throughout the unnatural plains.

All at once, she could move again, and was moving; had somehow landed on her feet in that tall ghost-grass and was running faster than the non-existent wind. Out of the corner of her eye, the screams had become black lines of vultures, diving to the earth and assembling in a ring. Heads down, wings hunched, with much ripping and tearing at an object in their midst, squawking good-naturedly to each other like any other birds.

And Ino kept running, closer and closer, and much too much closer, until she was standing between the dark-feathered fowl, gasping for breath. With no idea why she'd even taken the trouble, until the vultures fluttered a respectful distance away and she could see their prey.

Picked almost to the bones, it was. Pale skin still clinging in some parts to the hands and feet, patches of it folded neatly against slick yellow ribs.

_Why don't I run? _

The screams ascended once again.

_Why do I stand still?_

They rose higher.

_Is this something I want?_

A new kill, it was. The skull gleamed brightly with a coating of golden-red, one eyeball missing, the other dangling by a single thread-like nerve. Nearly burst, it was, but you could still see the iris.

And through the throbbing of her vision, Ino did see it. Or thought she did. What a beautiful, _beautiful_ jade orb, wasn't it? Gleaming with the blood and the bodily fluids—

Swiftly, almost reflexively, she snatched at the hated, oh-so-lovely shade. Shoved it into her mouth without a moment's hesitation, crunching and gnawing the leathery outside, until she felt it burst in her jaws. Then swallowed it, just like that. All so quickly.

Licking her lips, the girl stared in wonderment at her slimy, shiny fingers. The world became a shifting haze. She didn't notice the flaxen strands of hair still clinging desperately to the last fragments of scalp. She didn't notice that the eyeball she'd eaten with such relish wasn't green at all...

"I have done...a horrible thing."

But she didn't mean that; she never did. Surely that didn't make a difference.

With a harsh, braying giggle, it all went black.

* * *


	15. Or Something Like That

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

15. _Or Something Like That_

_I am all-powerful Time which destroys all things,_

_And I have come here to slay these men. _

_Even if thou dost not fight,_

_All the warriors facing thee shall die._

_-The Bhagavad Gita_

Gaara was restless.

He folded the corners of the sheet of paper in front of him, and then anxiously unfolded them again. Shadow-rimmed blue-green pupils slid uneasily from side to side. Wondering if he should imitate the others around him, he hunched over his test with exaggerated concentration, willing that the relentless characters printed so darkly on the white would somehow shift position, break formation, magically defy the laws of physics to reveal the ever-elusive Answers.

It wasn't working. And it was giving him a headache.

All of a sudden, he felt the presence bubble up inside of him, resurfacing from wherever it had burrowed in his unused thoughts. A deep, tangerine charisma, it had, and that was something he'd never understood. Who would suspect that such a benign manner belonged to the infamous, evil Shuukaku?

It was all in the undercurrents, Gaara knew, and after so many years of living with its existence, he'd only begun to map those slight distinctions out. Today, the voice sounded as restless as he was, and impatient as well. If walking on eggshells ever became a sport—

"_Cheat. You're supposed to cheat in this exam."_

Inwardly, Gaara was perplexed. _Cheat? The instructor said—_

With a sudden typhoon of frustration, the demon surged past his puzzled inquiry. Its words had morphed into cut-up snips of syllables, joined together only by the fraying threads of reason.

"_The only thing the instructor said was that those _caught_ cheating would be penalized. He said nothing to forbid cheating, simply because that is the sole purpose of the exam. You should have known that."_

Gaara nodded, almost sadly. Yes, he should have known that. There were more times than he could count when he 'should have known' things, but the Shuukaku, demon though it was, hadn't lost patience with him yet. Now he was smiling, a genuine smile that he hoped would come across as normal, happy, sane even. He knew it didn't, of course; he knew he looked even more like a monster when he smiled.

Memories trickled back to him, like runoff from an overflowing sewer. All those times when he'd sat alone on the playground, with only the voice in his head for company. Some of the children, noisy spoiled brats that they were, shadowed him, moving away when he moved nearer. Many avoided him entirely.

They hadn't seemed amused when he'd lost it at last and strangled one of the taunting, teasing little animals. Oddly enough.

It was all because of his eyes. They didn't match his emotions. No matter how cheerfully he grinned, the toddlers still cried and ran to hide behind the legs of their parents, while the parents themselves were shivering with nervousness.

And through everything, the Shuukaku's presence had always been there to protect him. It was the parent he'd always wished for. There were times when it scared him, and other times when it threatened to do worse, but it was the only constant in his life. The one thing he could rely on, look up to. Or, for that matter, believe.

Gaara's smile widened, and he knew he looked terrifying. For the moment, it amused him.

* * *

The pink-haired girl turned her paper over with a satisfied sigh. The test had been easier than she'd counted on, most of it merely basic math tilted on its nose to fit unusual circumstances. Intended to cause confusion, intended to appear more difficult through the use of roundabout explanations and complicated phrases. Intended to make the average genin think harder than necessary, until at last forcing them to give up in despair and desperation because two and two just refused to equal five. 

In other words, too easy.

She read over the tenth question once more.

**This question will not be provided until forty-five minutes into the exam. At that time, please answer it to the best of your ability. **

Short. Simple. Yet, because of that, it radiated an aura of significance. Probably the most important question on the test.

_No worries here. _

Soundlessly, Sakura peeled off a corner of the page, sending it fluttering inconspicuously to the floor. Time to check her teammates' progress. If necessary, she would use a latent-illusion jutsu to write the answers in herself. The pale scrap hovered apprehensively beneath the bench, fading chameleon-like to match the color of the scuffed tiles. Then it shot forward with an air of purpose uncommon in inanimate objects.

One more thing taken care of.

From the corner of one neon eye, she spotted a trickle of sand creeping ominously near her desk. Some of it floated in a haze over her paper; some of it whispered around its surface. Apparently having a hard time decoding whatever it was trying to read, especially since the real test was folded in her shoulder-bag.

Regardless, it reeked of demonic energy. Sneering as an idea dawned on her, she seized a handful of the particles with one eager fist, feeling the demon squirm as the sand dissolved like sugar into molten glass. It dribbled in a waterfall over her clenched fingers, cooling and hardening in an eternal puddle by her feet. Still smirking, Sakura folded her arms. She'd gotten the demon's attention now; she was sure of it.

_This just might be an interesting day. _

* * *


	16. Countless

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

16. _Countless_

_Like the fire at the end of Time _

_Which burns all in the last day,_

_I see thy vast mouths and thy terrible teeth._

_Where am I? Where is my shelter?_

_-The Bhagavad Gita_

Kakashi stared vacantly up at the ceiling from his poorly-padded chair. He couldn't believe it. He simply couldn't. _Was Morino Ibiki really the one conducting this exam? _

That was a worthless question to ask himself, he was all too aware. There was no reason to think Asuma was lying...but there was! Morino Ibiki, of the Konoha Black Ops, the infamously sadistic leader of the torture and interrogation unit...as the chief proctor? This had to be some cruel joke. Taken at face value, it was overkill. Dangerously so.

_Morino Ibiki_.

The silver-haired teacher closed his eyes, almost reflectively. He could barely recall his own passage through the Chuunin Exams, remembering only the fear that went with it. Fear, childish fear, fear that he'd since learned could be used to an enemy's advantage. He rarely felt that fear anymore; blocked it out of pure necessity. And so he opened his eyes again. He had to. It was better for his health, to brood over the misfortunes of others in place of his own.

_Morino Ibiki._

He relayed the name back and forth, over and over through his thoughts, begging it to be a lie, pleading sense from a mangled mess of chaos. The worst thing was, his students were in that classroom at this very moment, with a torture expert whose mere _name_ could strike fear into the hearts of hardened criminals. Whose powers of questioning, reading between the lines, and manipulation had remained unmatched for years.

Oh, maybe Sasuke and Naruto could handle it. Certainly they could. Sakura, though...she'd been through so much lately. How much more could she stand without snapping? Kakashi shuddered, goosebumps rising under his sleeves. He glanced worriedly at the clock above a forest of potted plastic plants.

The forty-five minutes were almost up.

With a ragged sigh, he slouched deeper in his seat. The lounge was so quiet. So empty. From across the wide expanse, the clock's second-hand scolded him loudly, its sharp reproachful ticks echoing with eerie reproach. He'd spent so much energy on protecting his delicate cherry-blossom, and he still couldn't do the job. Still couldn't keep her safe, eyes shielded from all the unpleasant things in life.

It was better for her to think, and live with the illusion, that nobody died without a reason. Nobody had to get hurt, nobody had to be sad and nobody was mean. That cruelty was a trait belonging to storybook villains, who were always punished within fifty pages.

Kakashi knew this was no way to raise a ninja. It was an instinctual thing. He knew that the weak died and the strong survived, but what was wrong with prolonging what life the weak did have? By doing that, he felt that, somehow, his sins had been forgiven.

* * *

Ibiki raised his head slowly, molding his eyes into spherical icicles. It was time. 

"Get ready for the tenth question." His voice rumbled like an earthquake through the ocean of genin. They reacted in the usual manner, trembling and nervous, unconsciously attempting to huddle a few centimeters closer to their frightened peers. Without the slightest thought, they entrusted their welfare to the ingrained concept of 'safety in numbers'. That was a deadly mistake in Leaf shinobi, which could be exploited to its full extent by the enemy. _But let's see them squirm a little more. _

"However, before I tell you the question itself, I'd like to add another new rule." Yes, it was quite satisfying to see the scared-to-death looks resurface on so many wide-eyed faces. And amusing as well, to observe the subtle posture changes rippling coherently through the throng of little brats. Except for a puzzlingly troublesome few, his psychological attacks were wreaking discreet havoc upon the entire herd.

"Allow me to explain," he continued. "This rule is absolute." He strode easily, kinglike, up and down the front of the classroom. "First, you must choose whether or not you'll accept this tenth question. " Countless fearful eyes gazed dumbly back at him without meeting his gaze, cowed clueless. One girl dared to inquire further.

"Choose? What do you mean, '_choose'_? What if someone decides to reject the tenth question!" Her words were scrunched together in anxious bursts. Ibiki raised an indifferent eyebrow, though inside his head he was entertained. It was ever a boost to his ego, to view the results of his careful work. He was only too happy to answer.

"By rejecting this question without even attempting to answer it, you will immediately lose all of your points. In other words, you'll fail, as will both of your teammates."

_Now_ there were more outbursts, cries of surprise from a mob emboldened by outrage.

"What the hell are you talking about!"

"Excuse me!"

"Why would anyone reject it, then!"

The man in the black trench-coat wore a viciously bored expression. _Make them think they are stupid. Humiliation will work well here._

"Because of the other rule, of course," he said, in the condescending way of someone talking to a simpleton. _Yes, dear, the sky is blue. It always has been. Isn't it fun to learn new things?_ "If you accept this question and get it wrong, you will never be permitted to apply for the Chuunin Exams again. You'll remain a rookie for the rest of your career."

A boy in a fur-lined parka pointed a finger in accusing disbelief. "You can't be serious! There are ninja in here who've sat through these exams more than once! We know there are!" Ibiki interrupted the tirade with a gruesome, know-it-all chuckle.

"Just your luck, then. I wasn't making the rules for the past exams. I am now. You can take a failing grade now, you know, and then try again later." That patronizing tone again. "Reject this tenth question and reapply next year. And the year after that." Sarcasm laced his words like arsenic.

"Are you ready? If so, let us begin. Those who choose not to accept, please raise your hands and exit the classroom."

A hush descended like a mantle of snow upon the multitude. This exam had become a contest, a test of who had the strongest will. Who could take the pressure, and who could not. At long last, one boy raised a quivering, timid hand.

"I...I quit! I'm sorry! I-It's just not worth it!" he shouted tearfully to an uncaring audience. Grumbling, his teammates stood and followed him as he stumbled through the door. They were followed by another, and another, and then a few more, until it seemed that an endless line was marching dejectedly between the benches. Team members nudged and snarled at each other, though they knew it wouldn't do much good.

_Reapply next year. Try again later. Next year. And the year after that. _

The pink-haired girl snorted in disgust. Cowards. Did 'rank' even matter, in real life? A Chuunin title would no more make one stronger than if one was labeled as a 'rookie' for life.

Apparently, she was the only one to realize that.

The room had fallen silent once again. No more hands were raised. "I'll ask you one last time." Ibiki's words bloomed suddenly into the stillness, enhanced with malignant persuasion. "This decision will affect the rest of your careers. Quit, and quit now, while you still have the chance."

There was no response. _Of course there isn't_, the torture expert berated himself. _These children aren't like adults. Why is that so easy to forget? When children are threatened to a certain extent, they shut down. They are unresponsive. I was too obvious, even if they don't realize it themselves. _He nodded to the others sitting against the wall. Might as well move on.

"To everyone still here...you have passed the first part of the exam."

Sakura smirked pityingly. The examiner had finally realized his mistake. She shook her head, disappointed. This was just a waste of time.

* * *


	17. The Proof is in the Pudding

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

17. _The Proof is in the Pudding_

_They are bound by hundreds of vain hopes._

_Anger and lust is their refuge; _

_And they strive by unjust means to amass_

_Wealth for their own cravings._

_-The Bhagavad Gita_

Ino watched her hands intently. They rested on that distant desk so far below, curled numb and useless on the scarred veneer, as though seen through a patina of hazy gray. Dead hands, without life or reason to live, bony and blue-veined. Like the hands of a corpse, they were.

_Now how would she know that?_

The misty curtain thickened, layer upon numbing layer, until all that remained of the outside world (_What 'outside world'?_) were a few flickering shadows; garbled signals too weak to travel further. She was practically swaddled in it now, in the miasma of anesthesia that she called peace. It was just as they'd always said. Ignorance _was_ bliss. How many times had she heard that before? 'Don't ask, don't tell.' 'Ask no questions, tell you no lies.' Things of that sort.

(_Tell me no lies, no matter how pleasing, no matter how flattering?_)

Well, maybe they'd been half-right.

Far away, behind the dull charcoal fog, the snowy fingers clenched against a background of moldy tan. Twitching with a senseless mixture of frustration and accomplishment. _Yes, she had passed the Chuunin Exams. _Information filtered through sinewy nerves in rogue bursts of enlightenment, fading as quickly as they came. _Yes, she had passed the Chuunin Exams. _

With the grating of rusted machinery, the golden head lifted, robotic blue eyes scanning the surroundings with meticulous inaccuracy. Danger, alert, a flash of cherry-blossom. Houston, we have a problem.

_Yes, she had passed the Chuunin Exams. _

But so had Sakura.

Teeth ground together in remote-controlled anger. Like the pilot in the cockpit, she neither felt nor understood the sudden burst of futile emotion pulsing through the circuits. Nor did she want to understand. (_Where's the instruction booklet when you need it most?_)

Strange, that she'd forgotten so many things lately. There were some things that she'd forgotten that she had forgotten. But it wasn't so bad, after all.

Because Ino had a goal now; a real, recognizable, definable _goal_. Defeat Sakura, that ingrate, that _demon_ who had taken all she valued and thrown it on the floor like it meant nothing at all. Defeat the one who had stolen her only pleasures, her personality; the one with the impossibly perfect existence who showed no respect for that of others.

Yes, defeat Sakura, and then win Sasuke as well (_just for kicks, you know)_...and what a prize that would be! Winning the last sane person in this village; in the world, perhaps. A fine and worthy goal.

Subtle against the mossy slate of the blackboard at the front of the classroom, a vague black shape swirled into a tall figure. Its trench-coat swung jauntily in an authoritative manner to reveal glimpses of a mesh bodysuit. Was it a man? A woman? Or could she stay safe, and call it what it looked like—an it? Did she care?

The mouth of the figure opened jerkily, like that of a clumsy marionette. Forming words, the blonde-haired girl supposed, pretending to fool herself into believing she was thinking rationally. Its voice was hoarse and husky, shouting yet wavering in and out of reach. (_The second part of the Chuunin Exams, did it say?_)

As if in slow motion, and still far too quickly, the genin surrounding her (_goddamn them, stupid brats_) stood as one, filing methodically after the new arrival without so much as a word. And Ino followed them, of course; what else was there to do? And she followed them, winding effortlessly through the maze of hallways that she swore she'd never seen before.They could have just been one of the many memories that had slipped her mind.

Or perhaps it was because she could see, all too clearly through the murkiness of her self-woven shroud, that morbidly cheerful flash of sunrise pink (_goddamn her, too!_) standing out in the achingly normal background of blacks and browns. So far ahead that it wasn't even funny.

_What was that _other_ saying, again?_

The blonde clutched at her head in anguish, shivering with the unexpected arrival of fear. The overwhelming fear of herself.

_That old wives' tale, remember?_

Ino didn't want to remember. But that didn't matter in the least here.

_Red sky in morning, sailor take warning. Isn't that right? _

Painted fingernails burrowed into the meticulously moisturized scalp. (_But this isn't morning!_) So much effort, wasted. So much going down the drain.

_Well, it sure ain't night, hon. _

* * *

Ibiki watched as the last of the students fled in an orderly fashion from the brightly-lit hell that was Room 301. _Smart kids. Accepting their fate without question. _He couldn't help but focus on the blonde-haired whorish one, the onewho'd attempted the astral projection jutsu. 

_Someone taught her a real lesson. _He thought without pity. _And she deserved it. _

And, heartless as that may have sounded, he knew it was the rule of thumb in the _real_ world. The shinobi world. Weed out the weak from the strong.

_And if the weak protest, give them freaking medic-nin jobs! _He smiled a private smile. Pathetic as it had become, Konohagakure's ninja academy had managed to keep most of its dirty little secrets to success just that—a secret.

* * *


	18. This Last Frontier

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

18. _This Last Frontier_

_And there is a wisdom obscured in darkness_

_When wrong is thought to be right,_

_And when things are thought to be _

_That which they are not._

_-The Bhagavad Gita_

Naruto plodded along in the line, wading through a river of quiet that clutched at his ankles like quicksand. His knees were still trembling, boneless and jelly-like, all of a sudden turned to celery stalks pathetically attempting to support his weight. The silence wasn't exactly helping matters, either.

He glanced quickly over his shoulder at the parade of genin behind him; imagined that their reptilian eyes were glaring at him and him alone, lips sewn shut with invisibly grisly black stitching, speaking hideous volumes with their bleary vision.

He whirled around hastily, facing forward once again. Listening with hopeless necessity to the electronic pulsing of the fast-approaching crimson 'EXIT' sign, drifting without direction towards a pair of double-doors. Reading, squinty-eyed, the yellowed handwritten placards plastered over layers of cheap, chipped paint.

"Danger"

"Only Authorized Personnel Allowed"

"Keep Out"

The blonde-haired boy could almost hear the voices hidden in the scrawling messages, whispering from their fragile dwellings with the rustle of generations. Reminding him in crackling undertones of so many lessons that had gone unlearned.

Frighteningly nonchalant, the dark-haired instructor in the light coat swung past them with a single careless kick. One of the time-worn pages, edges curled and crinkled, let go at last and fluttered to the ground. The howling death-wails were drowned as scores of feet trampled over it, a pitiful warning on the dirty linoleum, ignored and forgotten.

But Naruto had no time to contemplate philosophical metaphors, not now. Maybe later, as the pangs of regretful déjà vu began to emerge, but not now. Before he knew it, a shove from behind sent him sprawling, headlong into ghastly open air. Flailing weakly as the familiar chills filleted his limbs, instincts screeching in utter desperation at the aura of evil and unadulterated terror loitering just one step further.

And all for nothing, as the herd around him charged eagerly ahead, mindlessly scurrying into the slaughterhouse. Though the chorus of fear deep within him screamed danger, he had no choice but to do the same.

Perhaps that was how they all felt, he thought. Perhaps they were _all_ sensing the horrors to come, save for that stupid kid at the back jostling the one in front of him, who couldn't help but push the rest of them, too. Then again...wasn't everything like that?

Naruto sighed in resignation, signing the final dotted line in a barrage of documents that sealed his fate for good. Better to do that, and not put up a fight against things that couldn't be fought. Better to just surrender while you're still on top, and retain the distant hope of making it through in one piece. After all...it was better to have that than nothing at all.

* * *

The trees towered over the cluster of children, a forest barely restrained with barbed-wire fences and a few more discolored signs. Dire warnings, of course; the stereotypical, overstated understatements that trumpeted their messages in graying bold print. 

"Dangerous Area"

"Forest of Death"

"No Trespassing"

_Like any of these cowards _need _a warning._ The pink-haired girl frowned in passive disgust. The feeling of foreboding that radiated from the murky depths was enough to trigger obvious trepidation in the amateurs surrounding her. _Why isn't this place opened to the public? If we were allowed to train here..._

The talkative teacher that had led them out here was giving some sort of roundabout instructions, hands gesturing wildly, trying her pathetic best to both confuse and scare the voluminous audience. It was working, for the most part. Storing the key information in the depths of her mind, Sakura let the obnoxious, squawking sounds fade out like a far-off radio signal, her thoughts drifting ahead into the Forest of Death.

* * *


	19. Savoir Vivre

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

19. _Savoir Vivre_

'_I am wealthy and of noble birth:_

_Who else is there like me?_

_I shall pay for religious rituals,_

_I shall make benefactions,_

_I shall enjoy myself.'_

_Thus they say in their darkness of delusion._

_-The Bhagavad Gita_

Mitarashi Anko's scowling eyes surveyed the vast zoo of youth spread before her. A true menagerie, it was; a diverse display of raw emotion laid bare. Like captive animals, controlled by troublesome instincts that should have been obliterated by evolution eons ago.

Instincts that, given the opportunity, could be exploited for her personal enjoyment.

She grinned toothily at the procession of young ninja wannabes shuffling apprehensively into the curtained huts to receive their scrolls. This place was a psychiatrist's paradise. She had yet to see one of these young shinobi who appeared unmoved. Some were trembling with anxiety, literally shaking in their shoes. Others chattered nervously among themselves, as if by allowing their frayed nerves to take flight in the form of words, they would be suddenly freed from the horrible burden of emotion.

That was a laughable thought.

And it _was_ funny, in a sadistic sort of way, to revel in their squalid misery. Because their fate had no bearing on hers as a proctor, because she had no reason to empathize with their wretchedness. She was merely an observer here, and didn't care to be anything more. Just sitting back and studying the subjects that wandered into her field of vision was more than enough; watching the ones who'd seemed so smug in the classroom fall down on their knees and pray with the rest of them. All were equals, if only for one moment, brought to a standstill by the terror—

_Wait. _Anko reined in her exultations, sifting through the weepy ranks to find the unlucky target that had caught her attention. _Am I really seeing this? _Focusing on the pale girl with the shoulder-bag and outrageous, glaring rose-colored hair, standing stoically at the head of the line. Looking for all the world as if she wasn't affected in the slightest by the scare tactics that had her peers petrified. Alone; untouched in a seething sea of fear.

Something had to be done about this.

_I imagine she thinks she's quite special. One of those arrogant types, the kind that thinks she's goddamned immortal. _Or so the examiner could only assume, making her spur-of-the-moment analysis as she strode over to the target. _It's about time someone took her off of her freakin' high horse. _

She brushed aside the timid genin like flies, though most had shrunken from her as soon as she'd drawn near. Adding another layer to the flawless façade that had worked to put so many others in their place, placing her hands firmly on her hips, bending to be at eye level with the insolently impervious little brat.

_Not exactly the best place to be..._

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" The classically confident inflection, infused with a healthy amount of authority. "Don't you have better things to do than dye your hair pretty colors? Like, as in, train, to build up your pathetic lack of chakra?" Ruffling the cherry-blossom locks teasingly, Anko delved deeper into her spiel with zest.

"Awww, why so quiet, Pinky? Why aren't you scared like all your little friends? Oh, _I_ know...you probably have some _amazing, kick-ass_ _secret power_ that will kill all of us at the drop of a hat." Now for the intimidating leer... and the punch-line. "Or maybe you're just too cocky and ignorant for your own damn good!"

The instructor broke into a harsh peal of laughter as punctuation, mentally counting off the seconds before the outburst of sobs arrived. Gradually, the pink head turned in her direction as the words began to register in a distant brain. Before she could react, the jade eyes were drilling into _her_, as they had so many other unfortunates.

_What the hell is this? Some mind jutsu?_

And then the green flashed.

As the inevitable waves flooded an all-too-open mind, Anko felt the familiar throbbing pain creeping slowly into her neck. _Why is the curse seal acting up now? _She could only wonder as the world spun wildly around, only to right itself and return to the way it had always been.

* * *

Sasuke shivered as he felt the shadows of the trees above him crawling over his spine. He looked longingly over one shoulder at the black tent-like entrance. The barbed-wire fence would have been more attractive, but he was on the wrong side of it now. As if to contradict his yearnings, he heard the forest calling him too, entreating him to take that next step forward, and the next, and the one after that. Reprimanding his reluctance, repeating the one fact that he knew. 

_The only way to get out is to keep on going. _

Sharingan eyes narrowed at the pink-haired girl and the blonde-haired boy, standing a few feet ahead. _She_ had the scroll, the scroll that the proctor in the fishnet bodysuit had said was so important. And Sasuke, or rather, the voice in his head, certainly wouldn't put up with that.

_Are you going to let a specter control the outcome of this exam? _It whined, persuasively enough. _Are you going to let the dead control your fate? Are you going to let someone else think for you? _

It had become almost rhetorical. That wasn't what an Uchiha did. That just wouldn't do.

_What _does _an Uchiha do, then? _

"Give me..._scroll._" His words were mumbled, jumbled, crumbled and hacked to pieces. _Always say 'please' when you're asking for something..._

"_Please_... give me... _scroll_." He said it again, louder this time, trying to force a commanding tone through vocal cords long unused and at the same time attempting to appease the mysterious presence that had somehow surfaced. Surely the other voice would kill it off, soon enough. As long as he got the scroll, nothing mattered.

"_Please...give me...scroll!"_ Almost shouting at the pink-haired thing, he was. He realized this wasn't working.

And then he realized how pointless it all was. Why was he, Uchiha Sasuke, yelling at a ghost? Without time for another useless reflection, he lunged at the despicable cotton-candy monster and the precious cylinder in its bony grasp. He clawed for it desperately, snatching at the parchment, until he felt its shape finally slip into his own victorious hands. Stroking his treasure protectively, the raven-haired boy crouched behind a log, starting up a lively conversation with himself to rejoice in his skillful ultimatum of triumph.

Naturally, he didn't see Sakura slide the real scroll into the untapped depths of her shoulder-bag.

Naruto stared at the absurd, almost comical scene that had unfolded before his eyes. What an opportunity to berate his rival! He burst into a fit of nervous snickers. Was this really Sasuke?

"Hahaha...fancy this! _The_ Uchiha Sasuke, acting like the spoiled little cry-baby brat he really is! Hahahaha! What a-" He stopped his laughter abruptly, as if some deranged script-writer had censored his sentence._ The_ Uchiha Sasuke gazed at him blankly from his seat behind the fallen tree trunk, hugging the scroll as if his life depended on its existence in his arms.

_Was this _really _Sasuke? _

* * *


	20. Static Interference

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

20. _Static Interference_

_But the worlds also behold thy fearful mighty form,_

_With many mouths and eyes, _

_With many bellies, thighs and feet,_

_Frightening with terrible teeth:_

_They tremble in fear, and I also tremble._

_-The Bhagavad Gita_

Naruto couldn't help it. He couldn't take his eyes away from the raven-haired boy, crouched behind the mossy barricade of a fallen log, as if that would protect him from whatever was out there. What happened to the real Sasuke? The calm, cool, collected playboy who lived for his image and not much else; the genius who had everything together and everything else going for him—where had that gone?

He couldn't look at his teammate, and yet he couldn't bring himself to look away. He knew he should be snickering, sneering, hopping around and gesticulating wildly, in keeping with the unwritten expectations he'd driven into his head. Those rigid, grid-like laws that regulated his daily life.

He knew he should be planning his spiel of ridicule, to be spun to the other boys once they got out of this goddamned creepy jungle (if they ever did), about how the infamous Icicle-san had melted into a simpering, childish puddle; reduced to one more tear-streak on the broad face of humanity. Because it would be cool to do that, right? **_Right? _**

Somehow, it wasn't funny anymore.

"...and we'll be the strongest ever. But you knew that, yes you did yes you did, when the purple and the gray and the yellow and the black are true, and then all the rest they just go like that one they just go _POOF_ and then they're gone..."

Sasuke's voice rose like wisps of smoke among the thoughts, warbling crazily like some deranged, decrepit warning signal.

"...'cause there's a room and a window and a splotch on the wall, I don't know why it's there but we'll find out soon enough and ain't it just so looooovely don't you bastards agree with me, agree with me or you'll _know_ why! And you don't wanna know _why_, do you? You don't want me to tell you _why_, do you? Oh, of course you don't, no hard feelings, friends are the friends in the best of friends of the friends of the..."

The blonde-haired boy clamped his hands over his ears, reducing the frail needling giggles to a dull murmur, faded to the background. _Those words...those horribly mangled words...so many of them, marching along... _Like a child playing peek-a-boo, he was.

_If you can't see it, can it hurt you?_

_If you can't hear it, can it hurt you?_

Was he going crazy, too?

_Make it stop! This isn't funny anymore! _

His suffering did not last long. Because the sleeping jutsu she'd used worked with unusual speed, and he fell like a leaden weight to the ground. Within a second, the mumbling Uchiha followed suit, scroll rolling lazily out of twitching hands. Sakura stood solemnly, waiting until the spell had worked to its full effect.

_That should keep them out of trouble for a while. Now to get the other scroll. _

* * *

Taro leaned back against the tree trunk, feeling the rough bark against his back. Dappled sunlight flickered in a phantasm of bright dots overhead, a mosaic of gold and silver. He could hear the twittering conversations of the birds above him, and the musical babble of the small river behind a screen of shrubbery. He turned to his teammate, swinging with jaunty grace from a vine-draped branch. "Hey, Koji...d'ya think I should ask Karen-chan if she's done with the fish yet?" 

Koji nodded eagerly from his place on the branch, moppish brown hair flopping over his face. "Yeah!" He smiled frowningly, expression changing from enthusiastic to almost-worried. "She's been down there by the river an awful long time..." As if at the flip of a switch, the cheerful tone returned. "...and besides, I'm getting kinda hungry just waiting!"

Taking a deep breath, Taro stood. "Karen-chaaan!" he called loudly, in the direction of the shrubbery and the babbling brook. No answer. He tried again. "Karen-chaaaaan! Are you done with supper yet?"

This time, there was a response. A mad scrabbling from the wall of overgrown undergrowth, and then a high-pitched shriek. And then the deadly hush.

Both genin gaped at the bushes, and then at each other; faces twisted in terror. Cold sweat trickled down Taro's spine.

_Karen-chan!_

Silence laced the heavy air, a suffocating noose for the senses.

_Karen-chan! _

Butterflies warred in his stomach.

_Karen-chan! _

Without another thought, Taro and Koji leapt in unison over the green barrier. "KAREN-CHAN!" they shrieked desperately, but their screams stopped short. Karen-chan was not there. Her purse lay undisturbed, name neatly painted in white calligraphy on crimson canvas. Right next to it, the pool of dark-red blood, perfectly matching the color of the handbag.

And that was the last thing the two boys saw before the emerald flashes engulfed them, too.

* * *


	21. Conflict of Interest

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

21. _Conflict of Interest_

_I will reveal again a supreme wisdom,_

_Of all wisdom the highest:_

_Sages who have known it have gone hence_

_To supreme perfection._

_-The Bhagavad Gita_

Naruto rubbed his eyes as the world smudged into focus. _Must have fallen asleep...somehow..._ He swept away drowsy thoughts and fragments of broken dreams. His head felt heavy, almost drugged. Sasuke had captured most of his vision, still cradling the scroll from his seat on the ground. _Wonder...where did Sakura-chan..._

The blonde-haired boy glanced around quickly. He was afraid now. All too aware of the chill in the air. Tasting the breath of Death with every gust of wind.

_Where _is_ Sakura-chan? _

Feeling the waves of palely fearful nausea begin to pound once again in his chest like acid, dissolving the inside to leave only a hollow shell behind...a zombie...

No. He was overreacting again, wasn't he? _Sakura-chan probably went out to gather some food, _he reassured himself. She was like that; always so compassionate, so nice to others. _Though she really shouldn't have, because it's dangerous out there in the real world, oh so dangerous..._ And the waves surged forward once more.

* * *

Dropping the scroll leisurely into her shoulder-bag, Sakura watched with sage-like patience as the two boys crumpled onto each other like discarded paper dolls. Eyes rolling like bloodshot white marbles back in their sockets, thin strands of scarlet trickling from gaping mouths to join the communal crimson pool. At least they hadn't been foolish, like their teammate. 

At least they hadn't tried to run.

At least they could tell when they were defeated, when all hope was lost, so they could die brave and strong; on their feet and not on their knees like the cowards they wanted to be.

Or maybe she'd just done her work a little bit faster.

It was true—she'd pitied that girl, the one they called Karen-chan. Weak and oblivious, guarded by her sympathetic instructor, her parents, her friends. Thinking that there really were such things as peace, love, and joy. Never given the chance to learn that the world wasn't the big, happy family she'd been told that it was. Overprotected, and loving it so.

And how kind it was of the pink-haired girl, to end the sad delusion that was this team.

* * *

The soft rustle of leaves underfoot brought Naruto to sudden attention. "Sakura-chan?" he inquired, anticipation lacing his expression. He strained to see his cherry-blossom through the haze of jade undergrowth, ready to burst into cheery, relieved conversation. How glad he'd be to see her, how absolutely thankful— 

Orochimaru brushed past him without the slightest acknowledgement.

"Ah, Sasuke-kun." Gleaming, slit-like pupils glittered from behind serpentine strands of coal-black hair. "I've heard so much about you."

Sensing danger, Naruto whirled to face his comrade. "We gotta get out of here! There's something strange about this guy!"

Sasuke wasn't listening. Not now, not ever. He was frozen in leering, sneering still-life; lost in whatever realm the newcomer had wrenched open. Seemingly stuck between repulsion and a grisly fascination, a meaningless smirk cracking the perfect face that had made so many girls swoon, as if to say '_No fear here.'_

_This wasn't Sasuke._

"Sasuke!" The blonde-haired boy was pleading, screaming. "Look at me, damn you! LOOK at me!" He would have cried, too, if boys were allowed to cry. He imagined the tears streaming down his cheeks, begging a release from the pent-up emotion. The whisker-lines burned in wistful saltiness as the Kyuubi lifted its head from slumber.

And Sasuke still didn't listen; didn't even know he was there. Because his attention was on another thing, far more important, or so he thought.

"Are you listening to _me_, Sasuke-kun? I'll make you _strong_, Sasuke-kun...I'll give you _power_, Sasuke-kun..."

Naruto could see, through orange-tinted vision, the Uchiha's vacant eyes illuminate hauntingly at the raspy, drawn-out syllables. A jack-o' lantern's eyes, they were; carved to look like something they never should have, scraped painfully hollow from the inside out. Somewhere on that inside, a candle shining hideously, fanning rays of flickering false light to mask the darkness and dancing shadows.

_This wasn't Sasuke._

_It couldn't be._

_Sasuke didn't smile like that._

"SASUKE!" This was his last chance. If he failed now, he failed forever. And forever was such a long time... such a very long time..."WHY ARE YOU IGNORING ME?"

_Don't ignore me! _

_I've got something to say!_

_Please, _someone_, listen to me! _

He felt the rage growing inside of him as his teammate slipped away. A bridge to build, to cross, to burn and then build once again. An cycle that didn't have an end, and quite frankly wouldn't need one.

_They all ignore me! All of them! Every single one! _

With a rabid snarl, he lunged at the hated snake-eyed man, Kyuubi struggling frantically for control. Orochimaru sidestepped the attack with stinging deliberation, laughing softly, almost musically, to himself. Sasuke swayed drowsily to the sound, beaming drunkenly. _Ohoho...so this is the vessel of the infamous Nine-Tails? Well, well...I certainly can't have a little thing like this mess up my plans..._

Extending one arm, he caught Naruto mid-leap and dug his fingers into the spiral of seals he knew lay under the layers of clothing. As the demon-child slumped to the ground, he turned back to Sasuke, viciously amiable in his easy manner.

"Now, then...where were we?"

* * *


	22. The Spin

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

22. _The Spin_

_They'd traded deaths, _

_Danes and monsters, and no one had won._

_Both had lost!_

_-Beowulf_

The doctor flipped through the sheaf of manuscripts briskly, bushy gray brows drawn together in an impatient glare at the mess fanning out around him on the floor of his study. With an oath, he flung the folder away from him, leaving it to drown in the quicksand of its fallen comrades.

Muttering curses, he waded sadistically over to the last filing cabinet left, the three drawers he hadn't yet dumped into his personal rage-fueled landfill, kicking aside the stray pages clinging like little lost ghosts to his legs. Sweat collected in crystalline beads on his haggard face, turned cherry-red from the heat. What on any other day would be his office, his stronghold, his cool, safe sanctuary, had been turned into some hazy hell; air thick with dust tainted by the heavy scent of musty books and portfolios of unread reports.

It had gone from a cathedral to a crypt of his professional life, a tomb of works rotting peacefully in unison until some unfortunate disturbs their decay.

_And today's unfortunate is... _

"Damn it," he growled under his breath. "What a day to lose...to lose..." A fit of disgusted coughs racked his bony shoulders.

Damn it. What a day to lose something, and then forget what you lost.

Livid with frustration, the doctor throttled the first drawer of the filing cabinet, taking the bull by the horns, ready to put up a fight and a good one at that. All for nothing, of course; all for nothing but a channel for his fury, because it slid open with the grace of a butterfly to land on the toe of his Corinthian-leather slipper.

Empty.

Not giving himself time to react, he damned the cheap factories that could do no right, and laid a slightly more gentle hand on the handle of the second drawer. Empty. This time it didn't fall on its own. Rather, it was thrown, across the wide expanse to the bookshelves on the other wall. Made a tremendous racket, for sure, but the doctor had no tolerance for subtlety today. Today was war, and he didn't care what anyone said. Still resolute, he grasped the handle of the last drawer. Graciously, with the elegance of an agitated pickpocket, he—

swore out loud once more, with maniacal zeal, because the drawer, the last drawer, was stuck.

Pulling away from the sheet-metal cabinet without knowing it, he eyed his target with near-religious fervor, as if it was one of the many Holy Grails he remembered a younger, more archeologically-inclined self to have pursued in his books. _Something must be jammed in the runners_, his needle-sharp mind reasoned to itself. _Perhaps shaking it a bit will dislodge whatever got caught_...

Eagerly, and armed with a plan of action, he reached skeletal fingers once again towards his imaginary treasure chest. Wobbling the drawer slightly, the doctor smiled wolfishly as he heard the screeching protests of grating sheet-metal. He let out a triumphant laugh as he felt it slide out one inch, then two, then three more.

Normal people did not celebrate when they opened their filing cabinets, he knew, but he wasn't a normal person. He was a doctor. A degree and everything, the whole kit and caboodle. He didn't _need_ to be normal. Grinning as abnormally as possible, he grabbed at the offending scrap of newsprint that had obstructed his all-important mission, forgetting all about the object of the mission itself. Just as he'd thought, it was stuck in the runners; displaying the scars of ball-bearings wearing black text into a sickly silver.

Just for kicks, he decided to read it.

**Apr. 8 **(or was it the third? He couldn't tell. Probably the eighth. Odd, that this date was exactly two months from today. Odder, that it was exactly two months ago that he'd gotten that new chakra-reading machine. And oddest, his meticulously-organized brain noted, that on that very same day, that machine had malfunctioned for the first and last time.)

_Patient number A24J67._

**Yesterday, the Sand shinobi museum reported a theft regarding certain valuable scrolls displayed in the lobby, after a team of Konoha genin discovered the break-in on a retrieval missi-** (the rest of the word had been torn off, and some others as well. The doctor had the oddest feeling that he should be taking notes on this.)

**-t was noted that several of the scrolls were extremely rare, and potentially dangerous if-**

**-n the right hands. Luckily, says the museum's representative, "These scrolls were written in an old language that few can read. I think these thieves were just common thugs hoping to find a source of extra cash-** (another pesky rip. These were beginning to frustrate him. Or maybe it wasn't just the lost letters themselves, but the phrases formed by the remaining words and the parallels beginning to take shape in his mind...)

–**ore pessimistic Sand residents beg to differ. "I heard from my neighbor that one of those scrolls had some, like, secret chakra technique or something", says a girl identified only as Yumi. "'Cause my neighbor's, like, a total expert on scrolls and stuff, and he says this one would, like, totally screw up your chakra coils or something. Something to do with an energy ...thingy. But don't, like, quote me on it or anything." Sand officials would like to remind all ninja nations that there is no conceivable threat, but please report all suspicious persons to y- **

The doctor's eyes widened. Something tightened in his throat as his infinite intellect leapt ahead fearlessly, making the connection.

_This simply isn't possible._

It had to be some kind of cruel coincidence. Yes, that's what it was. A coincidence, nothing more than that one-in-a-million chance of everything lining up oh-so-perfect—

But wasn't that pink-haired girl a genin?

Wasn't she on a retrieval mission to Sand?

And wasn't it April eighth, exactly ten minutes after midnight, that her teacher had carried her into the lobby and demanded she see a physician?

Were coincidences always this blatant?

_This isn't possible,_ he reminded himself. _I've always been one to jump to conclusions. That's saved me plenty of times, for sure, but not this time, not this time-_ Rambling, babbling like a village idiot. Which was really all he'd ever been; too smart for his own good, growing up holed up in his room with only the moldy old textbooks for comfort. He'd wanted to be a medical ninja. His parents said no. "Too dangerous," they would croon. "Too dangerous for our little boy."

And he would grumble and whine about how he wasn't so little anymore, all the while knowing he couldn't do a damned thing about it. Not a single friend until he'd graduated from college; what friends he had now, he suspected were bought. So sad, so sad, so goddamned scared of the world—

_She has the scroll. And you can't do anything about that, either. _

Eyeballs bulging from purple sleep-deprived sockets, the doctor seemed to fall in slow motion to meet the sea of documents. The welcoming texts closed gently around his twitching form, as if they had expected his return. He knew the maid would find him sooner or later, when she brought his dinner on the silver tray. Perhaps she would find it in herself to spare him a little laughter, at the first bona-fide case of a man drowning in his memories.

_She has the scroll. I know it. _

* * *

Shifty aquamarine eyes rifled eagerly through the layers of trees. This was a green, murkish realm, and Gaara liked it. He could feel his senses tingling as he bounded from branch to moss-covered branch. The Shuukaku felt it too, the thrill of the mysterious and the unexplored, although it certainly didn't compare to that of swimming in fresh blood. 

He smirked broadly at the thought of finding that overconfident pink-haired brat. He'd fight her, and then kill her, and then paint the forest red with her blood- The demon was doing most of the tracking, of course. He himself was, for the moment, merely content to have lost Temari and Kankurou. Weak humans, but so clingy and annoying that they were almost _hard_ to get rid of. They would never have let him run off alone like this.

They would never understand his need to prove himself, a need fueled by the rage of Hell itself.

What was more, they didn't have to understand, and he didn't have the patience to bother with details. He was himself, and that was all the explanation they needed.

* * *


	23. The Dance

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

* * *

_**Bathing in Blood**_

23. _The Dance_

"_... daring_

_And young and proud, exploring the deepest_

_Seas, risking your lives for no reason _

_But the danger? All older and wiser heads warned you_

_Not to, but no one could check such pride."_

_-Beowulf_

"You certainly killed them quickly, little girl. Half a second per person, I'd say."

Sakura didn't need to turn around to know the source of this mocking tone. She'd sensed the orange-gray aura long before its owner had spoken. Now, she could almost feel the spirit itself, licking its chops hungrily behind the mask of its vessel. She could almost feel the eagerness welling in her mind, a chorus of bloodthirsty sirens ready to make the demon eat its words and hers as well.

_But all in good time. All in good time. It would spoil the fun to rush right in. _

And so the pink-haired girl remained silent, still as a statue, as if she hadn't heard a thing.

"A very neat job, too. Very, very neat." He sounded like some kind of artist, or a collector, or maybe a forensic scientist. "Let's see if you can do the same to me." His fanatical grin hung in the air, like a dare he knew nobody would take. With perfectly choreographed ease, Sakura turned to face her challenger.

"Why?" No emotion there, only a question. A question he wasn't expecting, more likely than not; a question to throw him off a bit. She couldn't give away anything, not the slightest hint of the enthusiasm boiling behind placid green eyes.

"Because I need to prove myself. Does it matter?" A bristling, almost defensive tone. The demon had retreated ever so slightly from the voice of its vessel, she noted with distaste. Time to end the charade, before it began to think she wasn't worth bothering with.

"Geez, don't have a cow or anything." Meaningless phrases, in themselves, but with sarcasm unleashed... A rabid smirk inched its way across Sakura's face. Jade orbs lit up like malicious twin flames. "I was just _asking_."

* * *

Naruto writhed in agony, rolling and twisting in spasms on the rough ground. Unwanted tears crowded in the corners of his sight, refusing to spill but still there. Still there. Another shot of blinding headache streaked like a firecracker through his forehead. He clutched his skull, trying to ignore the throbbing in his stomach. The Kyuubi was seething, howling, beating its head against the bars of its cage and then making _him_ feel the pain. What had always been a benign if not benevolent force in the back of his thoughts was becoming horribly real. 

He wouldn't scream, he couldn't scream, he shouldn't scream, he could take the pain-

He screamed.

Through cracked, bleary vision, the blonde-haired boy watched helplessly as his teammate flirted with the enemy—because that's what the man was, an enemy—, gaze intertwining with glassily focused gaze. Practically neck and neck—no, not even 'practically' anymore, just plain _there._ And then, with the grace of a swan or an assassin or both, the long-haired one leaned forward ever-so-slightly, sinking pale teeth into paler flesh.

This time he wouldn't scream, not this time. No way, no how. Not even gonna happen, not even gonna—

He screamed. He couldn't help it.

He screamed as the waves of dark energy exploded. He screamed again, louder, at the sight of the glowing mark on Sasuke's neck. He screamed once more, loudest of all, as his own misery caught up with him. The sound echoed in his ears.

Oh, how he _hated_ that scream.

_Where is Sakura-chan? _His panicking worries ran circles in his consciousness. _Where is Sakura-chan? Where?_

"_Not like she could help anyways, the useless little weakling brat," _the Kyuubi muttered in aggravation.

_D-don't say that about my Sakura-chan! You take that back! _Naruto glared at the fox, wherever it was.

"_You know it's true..."_

And then it went black.

* * *


	24. The Slip

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Bathing in Blood**_

24. _The Slip_

_So mankind's enemy continued his crimes,_

_Killing as often as he could, coming_

_Alone, bloodthirsty and horrible._

_-Beowulf_

The scream cut through the still air with the abruptness of a knife, a flying javelin of pure anguish. Like the cry of some wounded wild beast, it was, although too steeped in emotion to be anything save human. It diffused through the shivering leaves with a vengeance, grudgingly fading away. Gaara relaxed from his fighting stance, unthinkingly glancing along the path of the sound.

"_Probably some poor halfwit team being massacred," _the Shuukaku muttered impatiently. _"Ignore it. We've got someone else to kill."_ Obediently, Gaara surrendered his interest in whoever was suffering, so far away, and resolved to turn back to the matter at hand.

If only the 'matter at hand' would turn back to him...

Another scream ripped through the scars left by its brother, accompanied by a monstrous release of chakra. _"I really pity whatever idiots had to feel _that_ blow."_ The demon chuckled. _"Well, actually, I don't, but you know what I mean...Now let's get back to the fight! We've gotta kill this little bitch and move on to more interesting prey!"_ And the sand poured forth in a cohesive wave, a blinding river of gold fit for a king.

And what a pity, that its target wasn't paying any attention...

Sakura stared, transfixed, in the direction of the twin shrieks' source. The same direction that she'd come from, when leaving her team. Green eyes narrowed, then widened as the wheels in her head turned faster and she made the connection.

_...because didn't someone say something about needing all three teammates alive?_

* * *

Orochimaru smiled lazily from his perch on the moss-covered branch._ One_ _small step for man; one large leap for mankind_. Or something like that. Not that it could really be considered a 'small step', even for him—such a curse seal used up no small amount of chakra. It might take a few hours before he was back to his normal power again. But it was worth it. Oh, most definitely worth it. 

"It's only a matter of time before Sasuke-kun comes to me," he crooned dreamily to himself. Indeed, his work was over here; it was only a matter of time—

"Is that so?" Like the other shoe that everybody has been waiting to see drop, a panting Anko lurched clumsily into his peaceful domain. The snake man's languid expression widened into a sadistic grin.

"Now what are _you_ doing here?" he inquired, voice filled with feigned surprise that his face did not echo. "Out to stop me? No, no, I see that your job isn't what's on the line here. Let me think...revenge, perhaps? But for what...?"

Here a snicker, which would have sounded childish coming from anyone else. For him, it was a distinguishing mark, almost a form of verbal punctuation. And it served him well.

"What did I ever do to _you_, besides give you a cool curse seal and some cute tricks to go along with it?"

The proctor growled. She hated when he did this, treated her like some worthless pet, a mere toy. "Don't you play ignorant!" she slurred, trying her disoriented best to sound ferocious; forceful at the least. "You...you _did_ things to me, that's what you '_did'_! And then you lock up my memory!" Her pitiful whine rose to a hysterical high-pitched screech.

Like it or not, she was still being toyed with, still succumbing to the same influence she'd never been able to resist.

Orochimaru snorted. It was amusing when she acted so prudish, playing Little Miss Prim and making a fool of herself. Much more enjoyable. Much more fun. He simply _had_ to reply. "Well, if you want to put it in such delicate terms, then, yes, I _did_ 'do things to you'. All absolutely necessary things, though, you must understand. How unusually kind of me, too—sealing away those portions of your recollections."

_And he had to wonder...how did they become _unsealed...?

"Just imagine..." he continued, mindless of Anko's growing anger. Whatever she tried would be wasted effort on her part, regardless—that curse seal was quite the handy tool when it came to discipline. "...the unspeakable traumas you'd have had to go through if I hadn't. Hm?" Having said his piece, he neatly dodged Anko's kunai, returning once more to the uninterrupted fantasy world of his mind.

* * *


	25. The Sliding

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Bathing in Blood**_

25. _The Sliding _

"_The whole tale of how I killed him..._

_...would take too long..._

_Reciting unhappy truths about good_

_And evil..._

_On the mournful thread of old age, remembering_

_Buried strength and the battles it had won."_

_-Beowulf_

Sometimes things were just too good to be true.

They could put on quite the show, for sure; flaunting imaginary genius and infinite skill. Daring any who had the means to step up and try their hand. Looking for all the world to be on top of it all, only to find too late that they really aren't the greatest thing since sliced bread.

What a shame.

Gaara sighed, disgusted, world-weary, gathering up the pink-haired girl in a blanket of feverish sand. She'd been putting up a good fight, he supposed, considering her insufferable weakness. He had to give her some credit, though. She'd kept her infuriatingly emotionless cool to the end.

The very end.

As if her mind was somewhere else, somewhere far away. Perhaps a daydream. She certainly seemed like that sort; the kind of petty little halfwit who would while away her time in fairyland with her make-believe Prince Charming. Which was the worst place for one's mind to be in when fighting _him_.

But then again, what did he expect? He was Gaara of the Desert, after all. Gaara of the Desert was jaded to these things. Gaara of the Desert was jaded to _all_ things. What was more, Gaara of the Desert didn't give a shit anyways—

"_Something is wrong here."_

The Shuukaku's voice rumbled listlessly up from the silence. Unusually so. Normally it would be raving, scrambling and clawing inside his head, nearly salivating over the contemplation of fresh blood. This was none of the above. This was a simple statement disguised as an understatement, thought most likely an overstatement because _nothing_ ever went wrong.

_Well, of course. _Gaara threw his thoughts at the demon with anomalous sarcasm. _She's obviously weaker than us, and that's quite a problem. _All_ of them are weaker than us._ The Shuukaku blatantly ignored its vessel's remark.

"_Something is wrong here."_

Gaara was feeling brave today, and impatient, and rebellious as well. _Mother should be grateful for the meal,_ he muttered grudgingly in his head, barely concealing his mutinous view. Cutting off whatever other protests the demon had in store, he extended one hand in a movement that was practically habitual. As much as he didn't like doing this on his own—

_Desert Coffin. _

The sand smudged together, compacting into a sluggish wall around its victim. This was really too easy, entirely too easy, a joke; why he even bothered was beyond him—

Suddenly, the golden wall dissolved, scattering into a million skittish star-like flecks, retreating fearfully from the blood-drained corpse of a blue-haired girl in an orange dress. What a blinding color, this orange, clashing angrily with the evergreen kanji embroidered on the skirt.

'Asahi Karen'.

Her name.

How cute.

How vain.

This girl had been dead for quite a while. Less than an hour, more than fifteen minutes, all six quarts of crimson liquid drained from her pale body.

Why did he bother with analysis, when he already had the answer?

Gaara shook his head in disbelief. He felt the Shuukaku nodding, sage and self-satisfied, in the background as he glanced irritably in the direction of that long-lost shriek.

_Kawarimi no jutsu...a basic technique...known to even the most worthless of ninja...almost an insult in its simplicity..._

_That scream. It must have been one of her teammates. _

"Gaara!" Kankurou. He'd know that frustratingly patronizing tone anywhere.

"Gaara! Where did you run off to this time?" This one was Temari, with a concernedly screeching tenor. _Stupid siblings. _He growled, but did not move. Looked wistfully at the path his opponent had taken, knowing his window of opportunity to pursue this fight had just slammed shut on his fingers.

* * *


	26. The Fall

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Bathing in Blood**_

26. _The Fall_

"_So with the greybeard whose son sins_

_Against the king, and is hanged: he stands_

_Watching his child swing on the gallows..._

_He can raise_

_His voice in sorrow, but revenge is impossible."_

_-Beowulf_

The pink-haired girl gazed at her teammates with placid revulsion, at their crumpled limbs as they huddled in unconscious lumps of horror. Unnatural poses, like paper dolls or abandoned puppets, unwanted and forgotten, thrown carelessly to the ground. A residual aura hung around them in a haze, a pale washed-out cloud the color of murky water. It shimmered with left-behind power, power to control a curse seal and create another.

It smacked of danger.

It reeked of snakes.

Its owner was far, far away. Sakura made a wistful grimace as she looked off into the trees. She'd given up one fight, and a promising one at that, only to find that she'd missed the action anyways.

The forest wove a deceptive cloak of emerald on every side, surrounding the standing girl and the bodies at her feet. But the air itself was vibrating with that energy, that stale after-battle energy like the stench of blood, attracting sharks to the kill. Even now, she could feel the approaching auras, three of them, a trio of pinpricks the same faded, brainwashed gray-green as the reptilian chakra.

With a tinge of pink underlying them, too—they were just kids, just another team on another mission, shouldering the motives of the snake-man without question lest they be persuaded to do so with force. A cruel tactic, but it was effective. These were the kind that would rather live on their knees, that would die on their knees, that would mumble 'thank you' to their executioner.

The most convenient breed for a power-hungry leader.

Surely she could have put them down quickly enough. Surely devotion did not make up for lack of skill. However...could she protect the deadweights at her side while she did that?

_...all three teammates...alive..._

Her eyes lit up as inspiration struck. _They aren't waking up anytime soon,_ she thought with an open smirk. _All the better._

Fingers flickered effortlessly through a complicated series of seals. One hand twirled a kunai. A variation on the Yamanaka astral projection technique, adjusted for someone without a bloodline of her own. She'd coerced a younger, more gullible Ino into explaining it, on one of those girls-only sleepover parties the blonde had been so fond of. No one suspected; quite possibly no one remembered. Who could have looked at the little Haruno child, cherry-blossom locks hiding all except the innocent smile as her friend chattered cheerfully, and seen anything but good intentions?

Slowly, the raven-haired boy rose to his feet, followed by his rival. Blue eyes stared vacantly, zombie-like; red Sharingan wheels frozen and still. Their bodies glowed a soft scarlet. Sakura was in charge now, at long last, the ultimate puppet-master—

And that was when the pain hit her. The pain of two seals aggravated, aggregated into one. She could feel the boundless energy rising as she struggled to keep control, as she fell to her knees. She'd known this would happen; had to happen sometime; why now why now why now—

_

* * *

_

_They'd tied her up. _

_She'd put up a good struggle, for sure. She'd used so many techniques she remembered from her old scrolls, nearly everything she knew. But she was not used to fighting against forty men at once, forty men who were all shinobi, forty men who were all strong in one way or another. She didn't have Naruto's Kage Bunshin; she didn't have Sasuke's Sharingan. She had a few flimsy mind-jutsus, only useful when fighting one-on-one. So strong, and yet so **weak**._

don't say that don't say that don't don't don't-

_And here she was, bound and gagged and strapped to a chair in a dark room backstage, while the kidnappers partied noisily in the auditorium. She could hear their drunken conversations. _

"_You score us some gals tonight, Hota?"_

"_Forget about the gals! Score us some weed! I'm gettin' lonesome for me mushrooms back home!"_

"_Why bother? We're gonna hafta change base tonight. The little shit that walked in on us—she's one o'them wimpy crazy-ass Leaf genin as go on retrieval missions and such. She's probably let her whole team know about our hideout."_

"_Weeeed! Weeeeed, I tell you!"_

"_Whaddaya say we kill the bitch, just to make sure?"_

"_Whaddaya say we go get some weed, and _then_ kill her?"_

"_Enough about the weed, Maro. I'll send Nosuke to get you some. When he comes back, we can kill the girl, and then get the hell out of here with the Otsubo brat."_

_A chill ran up her spine, a small ice-cold insect making a nest at the nape of her neck. She needed a way out of this, and fast. She wriggled desperately in her bonds, working her arms up over her head. _

_That was when the idea hit her. _

_With one foot, she nudged her shoulder-bag open. On the top lay the scrolls she'd found in the museum lobby, abandoned by the bandits swearing and laughing on the brighter side of the curtain. She broke the seal of the first one she saw, the one that looked the most forbidding in the shadows, the one with the anciently silver hazy appearance. Squinting, she read the curling lines of calligraphy, and smiled. _

_This was one of the lesser-known forbidden jutsus. It had been developed, centuries before, as an alternative to chakra. A way to make up for what your genes lacked. A way to level the playing field of shinobi arts. It worked by rewriting the chakra coil system so that physical pain was converted to energy. Energy that could not be detected as chakra could. Boundless energy, directly related to one's endurance. _

_It sounded impossible; impossibly perfect._

_The experts deemed it too dicey, of course, once they knew of the risks. Eight out of ten people would not survive the rewrite, they said. And those that did survive would have to be even more cautious. A single moment of extreme pain could make for their self-destruction. There was only so much energy a body could handle, they said. Better to stick with the devil you know. _

_Thus, what could have been the greatest discovery in ninja history sunk to no more than a footnote in the official texts. And the people forgot, told themselves that chakra was more than enough, and moved on to greater things. _

_The pink-haired girl smiled fearlessly, grabbing a kunai with her toes. She brought it up in her bound hands, behind her back, never thinking to cut the ropes, too absorbed in her newfound knowledge to care. The seals on the scroll were glowing red, burning into her vision, as she drew the blade downward in a flash of cold metal. And then she felt it for the first time—the burning, the uncontrollable, overflowing potential. She couldn't rein it in._

_So she didn't try._

* * *

Sakura clenched her fist at the memory. She'd practiced all the time after that, wrestling for command of the power she both loved and hated. But this explosion of agony...she couldn't prepare for this. After all that hard work, after all that wasted effort, she had to do it again. 

Let go.

And if she did let go, what would it mean? Would she be weak for not controlling, or strong for simply having? Did she care?

The hovering image of her mother, beer bottle in hand, glared down at her.

_...girls aren't strong, Sakura..._

"Shut up!" she screamed in anger at the image. _That...isn't...true..._

_...you'll never be anything but a doll, Sakura..._

"Shut up, I told you!" she shouted. _That...**isn't**...true..._

Haruno Keiko leered at her.

_...you're just my puppet, Sakura..._

Frustration.

Despair.

Anger.

And all those, replaced by one word.

_Determination. _

A sneer reappeared on the pink-haired girl's face. She stood, suddenly calm, looking the ghost of her mother in the eye. She took a step forward.

And let go.

* * *


	27. The Impact

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Bathing in Blood**_

27. _The Impact_

_They sank into sleep. The price of that evening's_

_Rest was too high for the Dane who bought it_

_With his life, paying as others had paid..._

_And now it was known that a monster had died_

_But a monster still lived, and meant revenge._

_-Beowulf_

**_Strong_**.

Yes, strong.

Not weak.

_Never_ weak.

**_Strong_**.

Strong for simply knowing.

Strong for simply having.

Strong for surviving an explosion of inner energy that would have meant the self-destruction of anyone else.

And stronger still, for what she could do with that energy.

The red glow surrounded her, trailing from her fingers in tendrils of garnet mist. Reaching out to the trees, into the trees, catching the leaves in bloody flame. Crackling happily, and spreading in a cheerfully lethal blaze.

She smirked, kept walking, her puppets in her wake. Flanked by the scarlet fire dancing around her and scattering ahead, with her crimson aura ablaze, you would have thought she was bathing in blood.

* * *

They heard the fire before they saw it. 

Anko gasped theatrically as she stared up at the orange-red wave. The kunai fell from her hand. Orochimaru raised an eyebrow, vaguely regretting having chosen this year for his invasion.

Perched on a branch not all that far away, Kabuto was waiting for a team that would never come. Engulfed by the scarlet, thinking that one pondering thought he'd been conditioned to think.

_I am sorry, Orochimaru-sama. _

It had become almost habitual.

_I am sorry, Orochimaru-sama. This was a failed mission. _

* * *

Shikamaru glared at nothing, hunched down with his teammates in the bushes. He glared at the sky (_overcast, grey, smell of smoke in the air but otherwise normal),_ then at the ground; at the prickly foliage tickling his nose, then at Chouji (_eating, as always_). 

Then at his other teammate, who was not crouching near them after all. Was instead leaning over a patch of bright-white blossoms, pulling at them fervently and muttering under her breath.

_How troublesome._

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Ino? We've got people to ambush!" His words, spoken in a stealthy whisper, should have reached their destination quite easily. They did not, he observed, slipping into a strategic mindset. This anomaly, of course, could be explained, with two possible reasons.

Reason A: Ino could not hear him.

Solution to A: Talk louder.

Or Reason B: There was a wall of fire looming dangerously over them at the moment, making for a suitable distraction.

No solutions were offered to Reason B.

"Ino! This is no time to be picking daisies, you idiot! Run for cover, Chouji!" He decided to wing it, relenting control. Nothing had a prayer of being in 'control' anymore, not even close. His 'normal' had spun into a painful illusion. His 'always' was a blatant lie.

Chouji munched his chips contentedly.

The flames roared.

Slowly, Ino turned to him, a crumpled bloom in her outstretched hand. She beamed, sweetly sinister.

Her blue eyes glowed in the backlight of the blaze.

"Do you want a flower, Shika-kun?"

* * *

"Good God, Gaara! We spent hours trying to find you!" 

Gaara glanced at Temari in obstinate silence as she paced back and forth in circles, whining and ranting and waving her hands wildly. The bloodlust pounded in its cage inside his forehead. The Shuukaku's ever-changing mood had swung once again, from passive contemplation to compulsively aggressive daydreaming. Daydreams about what they could do to this Temari, this Kankurou, these _people_ who had taken away from them a perfectly good game of cat-and-mouse.

_"Imagine how good she'd look shish-kabobed, or him boiling in his own blood and bodily fluids, or maybe even..." _

Siblings were not to be eaten. The Shuukaku knew this, and knew it well; abided by it, for the most part. But nothing could stop the vicious fantasies.

_Shut up._ Gaara growled inwardly, trying to quell his half-approval. _She's my_ _sister_. _He's my_ _brother_. _My own_ _blood_.

_"...Is that so? How convenient-"_

And the demon rambled on and on, in a singsong voice, bouncing from orangey depths to loftily screeching heights. Valleys and mountains, mountains and valleys. Over and over and over again in an endless loop. Chinese water torture, for the mind. How he wanted to do what he always did during times like this; to collapse and find some stability on the tantalizingly solid ground, to clutch his skull with his fingers and somehow stuff the sanity back in.

But he couldn't. He couldn't break down in front of his siblings. They expected more of him.

He needed an escape. He needed a miracle.

And a miracle did come, in a flowing red typhoon plowing angrily through the green. He ignored Kankurou and Temari, their shocked expressions and their shouts. Looked up into the ocean of scarlet fire with the gracious, grateful smile he'd been saving for so long.

* * *


	28. The End

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

_**

* * *

**_

_**Bathing in Blood**_

28. _The End_

_Be patient for one more day of misery;_

_I ask for no longer._

_-Beowulf_

Red.

It was all he could see, all he could sense and touch and smell in this bloodthirsty fantasy. A vicious, pulsating, perpetual red it was, ever-flickering between bright and brighter. It pounded against his eyelids; burned and seethed as if it had a life of its own.

Yes, it was all he could see, and yet all he couldn't see. Because if he imagined he was squinting, he might think for just an instant that there was a tinge of pink behind the crimson wash. It was familiar, much too familiar; a pink that whispered vaguely sinister things in a vaguely sinister way. It trailed in his vision like a lone, lost little puppy.

Like a little puppy with fangs.

But of course he _wasn't_ seeing these things; it was just a dream and nothing more. It wasn't real. It couldn't happen if it _was_ real, because he knows that the dog you feed won't bite you and the dog you starve won't either. He knows it's just a dream, just a pathetic, twisted, distortedly misfortunate horror of a dream, he knows—

_Only five percent of people dream in color. Isn't he lucky?_

Kakashi didn't seem to know anything anymore.

* * *

"Something odd's happening in there." 

The man's posture echoed his drawling voice as he leaned lazily against the chain link fence. His mop of black hair, graying subtly, shaded his face from the freckles of sunlight that dotted the shadow. A normal reasonable-looking kind of guy, not the type to get worked up over nothing. Or anything, for that matter. And yet...

"'Odd'? What do you mean by 'odd'?" The female jounin standing next to him whirled around suddenly. Her words were clipped machine-gun-bullet noises, the sounds made by frayed nerves when they snap. "You know what they said! Anything that might be dangerous, even the slightest _hint,_ should be taken seriously!"

The man sighed, rubbing his temples absentmindedly. "You take things _waaay_ too 'seriously' for your own good. This test would be pointless without a bit of uncertainty and risk mixed in." He laughed at her still-anxious expression, the drawn brows and pursed lips that made her look like a human storm-cloud, and decided to alleviate her fears.

"Besides, all I said was that something _odd_ is happening. I didn't say 'threatening' or 'scary', or that precious word,'dangerous'." He stared complacently into the wall of green foliage that surrounded the tower. Shaking her head, the woman mumbled something under her breath. It was hard to believe that this man was a proctor sometimes.

Then again, it was hard to believe that she herself was a proctor as well.

"But still! This exam is important! We should at least investigate it further; maybe contact Hokage-sama--" She felt her colleague's strong hand grasp her retreating shoulder. She turned.

The wall of green had become a wall of fire.

"I knew those fire-proofing jutsus would come in handy this time!" He smiled easily, unmoved from his place against the fence.

"Dear God!" She nearly sank to her knees; steadied herself before she fainted. Instructions first, instincts later. "We _must_ tell Hokage-sama! Now!" Once again, she tried to run. Once again, she stopped. Her colleague wasn't moving. Instead, he was gazing serenely into the crimson blaze.

"Look." With her eyes she followed the tanned finger pointing into the midst of the flames. Three figures were beginning to emerge. "Who are they?"

You had to squint to see them.

"Umm..." Forgetting both instructions and instincts, she racked her brain for the information. "Kakashi's Team Seven. Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke, and...that pink-haired girl. What's-her-name. Haruno something, wasn't it?" The man nodded sagely, calmly, half-listening, seeming almost proud as he watched the children approach.

"Yep."

His tone as unfettered as eternity, gleaming with a hint of satisfaction.

"Always knew those two boys had potential."

FINIS.

* * *

**_Bathing in Blood_**

29. _Credits_

Acknowledging all my reviewers for the sequel to Puppet in Pink!

(in no particular order)

**Noca-**sama (aka Hina-sama)...for giving excellent tips on the non-existent fight scenes

**Mad-killer-bunnies-alert**-sama (aka MKRA-sama)

**Kage-Rebirth**-sama (aka Kage-sama)...for having a cat!

**XiaXue**-sama

**Maya Amano**-sama

**Shiroi Hikari**-sama

**Sailor Tiamat-**sama

**xx-Tsumi-chan-xx-**sama

**lostfreakfound**-sama

**dobyuk princess**-sama

**Hyourin Kage**-sama

**deity of death1-**sama

**Adyen-**sama

**Ashley-**sama

**Fwoggie-**sama

**lonewolf-chica**-sama

**Red Crow-**sama

**faLLen-dreamz-**sama

**waterfox96**-sama

**Icy Lullaby-**sama

**BloodLasts4Ever-**sama

**Jingle Bells**-sama

**Phoe-chan-**sama

**tjal**-sama

**unmoving-**sama

**HikaruOfArrow-**sama

**ArrowOfHikaru-**sama

**Search and Seek and Destroy-**sama

**Rhythmic-**sama

**Miyano Shiho-**sama

**catc10-**sama

**l****egacyZero-**sama

**zero25-**sama

**silver dark rose-**sama

**PGRS-**sama

**Grummur-**sama

**Ewz**-sama

**kira-924-**sama

**Lady Light-**sama

**hikariko-**sama

**sonydjsnmix-**sama

**aNiMeaNgEl-**sama

**Shinobi Sakura-**sama

**insert catchy name here-**sama

**KKO-**sama

**Anime freak-**sama

**3**-sama

**LadyofDarknes-**sama

**WickedFantasies-**sama

**BBKarateGrl-**sama

* * *

I hope I didn't forget anyone...even if I did, I want to say this: You guys are the best! If you didn't like the story, you told me so, without coming across as offensive. If you did like the story, you told me so, and gave me all kinds of ideas, suggestions, and comments. You also had to put up with my laziness, forgetfulness, and occasional randomness. For that, I must apologize. (bows) Can't possibly thank you enough! 


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